Because Love
by VinVal
Summary: 9: Watanuki is constantly surprised, Doumeki isn't used to feeling like a roller coaster. [A series of songfic vignettes throughout Doumeki and Watanuki's relationship. Rating subject to change by chapter]
1. A Sudden Sea

Disclaimer: Characters owned by Clamp.

In a review on a different story of mine, WingedSerpent said that "Doumeki and Watanuki have an interesting relationship (one that I don't think would be naturally romantic)". While I know it's not quite what he meant, it made me think about the path a relationship between the two of them would take, and realized it would be a long, winding, and difficult one, because sometimes even the best love is surprisingly hard to manage.

I'm going to explore that path, and choose to do it in a series of songfics, because nothing speaks to me more than music. Any musical suggestions would be lovely!

This turn's choice is Don't Wait, by Dashboard Confessional, and is in _italics_.

For WatanuKimihiro, because she's the best reviewer _ever_. Thanks bunches for ever and ever, darling!

Feedback fulfills my world. I'd sincerely appreciate any and all of it! Please be courteous and review!

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**A Sudden Sea**

He wasn't sure how he'd ended up here, but he supposed, in the end, it was better to have Doumeki's company than no company at all. It was something he'd been forced to accept, anyway. Besides, they were watching a meteor shower that only happened every hundred years or so, what kind of opportunity could his older rival have to annoy him, like he was wont to do?

Watanuki loved late summer. It wasn't as humid, and the night breeze was extremely pleasant here in the park they'd frequented so many times, with its cherry blossoms and rolling green hill, on which the two boys were sprawled in their light yukatas, limbs akimbo. Watanuki curled his toes into the grass, sparing a brief glance at his companion, who was his usual cool self, laying back with his hands tucked behind his hair, sleeve fallen back to his elbow. Even in the faint light, he could see the web–work of scars that patterned his forearm, a testament to the many, many times he had been there at exactly the right time.

_The sky glows, I see it shining_

_When my eyes close_

_I hear your warnings but we both know_

_I'm gonna look at it again_

Doumeki never gave the night sky too much thought. It was unfathomable, and Doumeki didn't like to waste time with things he never cared to understand. Not until recently, anyway. The night sky became a lot more interesting when Watanuki showed enthusiasm for it. Just like he couldn't keep himself from gleaming with something he couldn't put his finger on whenever Watanuki cheered him on at his archery meets, something more than concentration and accuracy could accomplish. It was a funny thing, something Doumeki wasn't sure he wanted to understand – but because it involved Watanuki, it was intriguing instead of irritating.

And here it was again, laying on a hillside with the slight, skittish boy in silence, and Doumeki wanted to break it simply because he wasn't sure what else to do with it. Whatever forces there may be, he'd never had the chance to start a real conversation with him, something besides wry jokes, loud protests, or those vaguely unnerving things that seemed to pop out of their mouths at tense moments, moments where things were bare and vulnerable. While Doumeki knew himself to be collected, thoughtful, and sometimes a blatant jackass, he'd never thought he was a coward, but it was there, in those moments, all the same.

_Well, you get one look_

_I'll show you something that the knife took_

_A bit too early for my own good_

_Now let's not speak of it again_

When the sky began its chaotic dance of shooting stars, Watanuki let the glare of the silence fall away into mesmerizing display.

He thought about his parents, and how once, when he was little, they'd let him stay out past his bedtime to stargaze, the first time he'd ever wished on a falling star. He couldn't remember what he'd wished for, but he'd been a child, so it was likely an extra bowl of shaved ice, or a puppy, or any one of the things a child craves. _If only I'd wished…_ Watanuki let out a long sigh as if it would drown out the thoughts that trailed through his mind. He had access to a whole shop full of wishes, and now that he knew the weight of them, it was unlikely he'd ever idly yearn for something again.

Yuuko would take it out of his paycheck.

_Don't wait, don't wait_

_The road is now a sudden sea_

_And suddenly I'm deep enough_

No matter how hard he tried, Doumeki couldn't find the streaks of light as captivating as popular opinion seemed to dictate. He continually found his gaze dropping to Watanuki and the expression on his face, a wistful mixture of melancholy and irony, and he finally admitted to himself that what brought him off the temple grounds tonight had not been the temptation to see a meteor shower. He was a fool, indeed, to think he'd come out for any other reason, and a coward to do nothing about it. But, in the end, he knew why he wouldn't.

So instead of acting on impulse, something he'd been careful to resist on principle alone, Doumeki settled in comfortably and, to be safe, closed his right eye. He let his head tilt to one side, his face tickled by the grass, and watched the display of emotions swimming across Watanuki's. It was far, far more interesting than the sky.

_Don't wait, don't wait_

_The lights will flash and fade away_

_The days will pass you by_

Watanuki lifted one finger, tracing the streaks across the sky, and was struck by the memory of Doumeki saying he couldn't go into the shop. Why couldn't he go in? Did it mean he'd never wished for anything at all? Would never wish for anything at all?

Doumeki didn't notice when his right eye slipped open again.

_Don't wait_

_To lay your armor down_

"Have you ever wished on a falling star, Doumeki?" Watanuki asked. There was a silence, and right before he turned to look at the other boy, his vision swam then solidified into a clear picture of night sky on the left, and a clear picture…

… of himself, one finger pointed at the sky, soft smile and a faint stroke of light across the lens of his glasses on the right.

Watanuki jerked his head to meet that stare, and became frozen in it – cool Doumeki was warm – warm in a sense Watanuki never would have thought he was capable of, and to his surprise, Watanuki liked the smile that began to spread on Doumeki's face, a sight so exceedingly rare that he was stunned for a moment.

But he shot up, away from it, leaning back on the heels of his hands, before he would let that thought get any further.

Doumeki's smile became a grin as he turned his head to look back up at the sky. If he was a coward, at least he wasn't the only one.

_Don't wait_

_To lay your armor down._


	2. Shining Through

Disclaimer: Characters owned by Clamp.

Lyrics in _italics_ from Collide, by Howie Day.

Please review! Feedback feeds my muse (she's so skinny…)

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Shining Through**

"Did you enjoy the meteor shower?" Yuuko asked, tapping the end of her pipe against the wood of the porch, watching Watanuki from the corner of her eye. He didn't trust it, he never trusted it, so he gave her the most carefully neutral answer he could come up with.

"It was nice, yeah." She gave him that sly, sliding smile, and something akin to Watanuki's normal exasperated panic began to clamor up his ribcage. She couldn't know, could she? About something so… negligible? Sure, Doumeki had been watching him, had smiled at him, and it wasn't something that happened everyday, but that certainly didn't make it significant.

Did it?

_The dawn is breaking, __A light shining through_

Doumeki strolled down the street toward home, one arm buried in the fold of his yukata, fingers absent–mindedly tugging at the ties that held it together on the inside. The soft noise his sandals made echoed off the concrete walls, mingling with the distant giggles of teenagers also migrating home after the meteor shower. All right, he was a coward, but a coward with a purpose. Boldness would only bring ill ends, because Watanuki couldn't even bring himself to admit they were friends.

But friends encouraged each other, and Watanuki was at every archery meet and Doumeki never downplayed the fear Watanuki suffered on a daily basis. Friends looked out for each other, and Watanuki made him lunch everyday and Doumeki made sure his bow was never too far away. Friends walked together and studied together and stayed up late together and sacrificed for each other; Doumeki fleetingly touched a fingertip to the curve under his right eye. Friends laughed together, and although Doumeki had yet to see that happen, they were still friends.

Weren't they?

_You're barely waking, __And I'm tangled up in you_

Watanuki sipped from his teacup, his thought from earlier still bothering him. He shot a glance at Yuuko, who was staring into the darkness beyond the fence, and when he followed her eyes, he noticed that the wards stuck to the wooden planks were shimmering slightly, as was the open space between the gates. Yuuko's hitsuzen at work again, drawing in its inexplicable customers like a spider's web, deceptively fragile and beautiful at dusk until it caught its fly. He sighed, goaded by the silence and a nagging curiosity. _I'm going to regret this._ It wasn't as if he wasn't going to die an old man in Yuuko's service, anyway. How much could a simple question cost?

"Yuuko–san… Why can't Doumeki enter the shop?"

She gave him an appraising glance, as if she was proud he'd finally asked, before she pursed her lips and blew the steam off her tea. They lapsed back into quiet, but Watanuki was familiar enough with the nature of this one to be patient. Yuuko wouldn't pass up an opportunity to tack more servitude onto his tab.

"Hitsuzen works inside and outside these walls," She began, her eyes drifting back to the fence. "But it only goes so far, as I'm sure you've noticed. All those people that came to me didn't know what they were asking for, and in the end, never achieved their wishes." Watanuki nodded, wary of the cryptic tone in her voice. It never boded well for him. Maybe he should fetch the sake in hopes that she'd drop the all–knowing act.

She chuckled, startling him as she echoed his thoughts. "Surely you don't want me to share the price for honest information?" She purred, teacup still near her lips. He shook his head fast, before it caused any mischief. She pointed a thin finger at him. "Then I suggest you listen and learn, Watanuki–kun."

She settled back again, leaning on one long arm and cradling the cup in her hand as she swirled it, waiting for it to cool off. "In every human life, there are choices – feed the baby or order take–out, marry this girl or take her as mistress, tell a white lie or be truthful – and while small, many of them prove far more important than most would think. Hitsuzen simply sets the path, and it's up to you to walk or wander, with equal consequences either way."

Warmth from the teacup seeped into his palms, making them itch and sweat, and Watanuki suddenly realized he wasn't sure he wanted to know what Yuuko was getting at.

_I'm open, you're closed, __Where I follow, you'll go_

The fact that they didn't laugh together, only at each other, bothered Doumeki more than it should. It never got to him before, but now that he noticed it, he wasn't one to deny the obvious. _That's Watanuki's job_. So what? He'd smiled at Watanuki, unable to help himself when he saw his relaxed expression, and while he expected the bewildered response, he hadn't thought it would… hurt.

Being who he was, Doumeki broke it down to the facts. Watanuki protested and nagged and made some of the most annoyingly naïve decisions, something Doumeki thought he would've grown out of fast, given his position. He ignored Doumeki's advice, as if it was a crime to make sense. But that made up a large part of who Watanuki was, didn't it? All heart and no self–preservation, consequences be damned.

But he still made Doumeki whatever he wanted for lunch, was at his meets, managed to walk by the temple at exactly the right time every morning. He retrieved his soul from the Zashiki–Warashi. He even gave up his right eye, stubborn as he was about it. No one consistently did thing like that for someone they dislike, obligation or not.

So why couldn't they smile at each other?

_I worry I won't see your face, __Light up again_

"Doumeki leads a life of choice. He'll always know his alternatives, he'll never give up until he chooses to, and because of that, hitsuzen only has so much power with him." Yuuko gave Watanuki another appraising glance. "You, on the other hand, are extremely influenced by hitsuzen, because it's in your blood – you could avoid it no more than Doumeki could invite it."

Watanuki scowled, stuck on her words. So what? He already knew Doumeki was a lucky, perfect bastard. Brooding good looks, loving family, skill at nearly everything he touched? All those chocolates on Valentine's day, even from Himawari–chan? But also able to pick and choose life as he wanted? It was something Watanuki had craved ever since his parents died, ever since he'd discovered his terrible talent, ever since his life had spiraled out of his hands and left him as a lonely, struggling mess. That was what had brought him to Yuuko, wasn't it? It was why he'd come to love cooking and ironing and sweeping and going to bed early? Because it was the last vestige of control he had?

"But there is always a path for every person, one thing it is up to you to know and follow – a sole reign of choice or hitsuzen, so to speak, depending on the dominant element in your life," Yuuko continued, still watching his roiling expression out of the corner of her eye. "One path you could deny with hitsuzen, one path you cannot help but follow with choice." She turned to look at him, a hint of a smile playing at her mouth, but Watanuki couldn't tell if the glint in her eyes was serious or playful. He promptly forgot what he was thinking, sensing huge chunks of his paychecks at stake if he didn't pay attention.

"But for Doumeki, his decisions carry far more weight – he's responsible not only for the path of his own life, but those he influences as well. It is a hard burden to bear."

_Even the best fall down sometimes, __Even the wrong words seem to rhyme_

Doumeki often wondered how he'd ended up as the one with all the attention. Sure, he was good–looking, but a lot of guys were. He was in archery club, but he was there because he enjoyed the challenge, for the way it sharpened his meditation – not for the glory and appeal that led other boys to it. He'd been dealt a decent hand from the start, but he didn't think it was enough to draw attention.

Watanuki was the loud one, always waving his arms and fainting and falling flat on his face – he was the one who should be noticed, with his inviting eyes and the way he tore around the streets, completely oblivious to the wake his actions caused. He was so unselfconscious in so many ways, a hidden gift to his curse, just as Doumeki didn't want to be known but all too often was.

_I'm quiet, you know, __You make a first impression_

So if Doumeki had choice, then what drove him to spend nearly all his time with Watanuki, when he had gaggles of girls following him around? Sure, Doumeki wasn't typical – he'd grown up in a Shinto shrine; he had exorcist blood. But he'd never be in want of anything, not like Watanuki was.

He'd never know the weight loneliness had – desperate measures for desperate times, Watanuki mused. Doumeki would never know what it was like to wake up to an empty apartment. Doumeki would never know how cold it got when all he had was faint memories to keep him warm. Doumeki would never know how hard it was to make dinner for one, year after year.

But Doumeki was still there, wasn't he? Always at the right time? And that was a result of his choice? Did he choose to, as he'd once put it, carry half the burden?

It was Doumeki. Of course he did.

Watanuki shut his eyes, resting his chin against his chest as he tried to suppress the delightful panic that exploded into a million clamoring, sharp–toothed, iron–clad butterflies.

_Well, I've found I'm scared to know, __I'm always on your mind_

Maybe if he didn't have to spend all his time protecting the fool, then maybe he could figure this out. Something was there, something Doumeki wasn't sure that he liked, that he wanted, that he was comfortable with. It was a controlled fall, an awkward tumble toward an unforeseeable landing, and while he was good at rapid adaptation, Doumeki was not fond of how it hazed his mind over like dawn on a muggy day.

He didn't know where it would end up, but the challenge was sorely tempting. He knew exactly how to get a rise out of Watanuki, knew which buttons to push to drive him up the wall. Why couldn't making him smile be as easy? Doumeki decided he could bide his time, suffer the cowardice – he just wanted Watanuki to smile at him, to not freak out if he smiled back.

So he could be sure they were friends.

_Don't stop here – I've lost my place_

_I'm close behind_

"Watanuki, do you remember what Doumeki–kun's eye resembled before you swallowed it?" Yuuko's voice was gentle, coaxing, and Watanuki already knew the conclusion she was tripping him toward. He nodded, eyes remaining glued shut.

"There is balance in everything. You'd do best to remember that."

If only balance didn't mean dependence on someone so… unfathomable. Watanuki did a brief examination of his current lifestyle, and while he wasn't sure he liked where it had brought him, it was a hell of a lot better than where he'd come from.

Contrast, choice, balance, hitsuzen. Did it matter, in the end? Apparently it put Doumeki smack dab into the center of everything anyway.

But hell if Watanuki would ever admit he liked him there.

_Out of the doubt that fills your mind, __You finally find, __You and I collide_

(Because sometimes a smile is all we need.)


	3. More Than Make Believe

Lyrics are Waiting for the World to Fall, by Jars of Clay.

Please review!

**More Than Make Believe**

Doumeki knew as soon as Watanuki stepped out of Yuuko's gate that something was wrong. He'd seen that look one too many times: the distracted, faintly sorrowful expression that meant there was something heavy on his mind. Besides the fact that Watanuki simply fell into stride with him and turned toward his apartment building without protest or name–calling, Watanuki's face alone was enough to concern Doumeki. Given all the things they'd been through in the havoc of the past month – Doumeki didn't ever think he would lean on a windowpane again – this wasn't sitting well at all.

Despite the peace and quiet, Doumeki didn't like this mood. It made him uneasy, and he didn't have his bow right now. Watanuki was often so caught up in his internal reverie that he completely dropped his guard, but what Doumeki hated the most was that he didn't know what was going through Watanuki's head, he didn't know how to make it right again, and he knew better than to ask the younger boy directly. He'd have to watch and wait, like always.

Almost forgotten in the bare moments of recent events, the desire to see Watanuki smile came flooding back.

_I'm afraid it's been too long, __To try to find the reasons why_

When he'd been about to leave, Yuuko had handed Watanuki a wide, flat package. "Another delivery?" He asked, checking the fading sky. "It's kind've late, don't you think?"

Yuuko shook her head, and Watanuki realized her demeanor had changed, despite how drunkenly merry she'd been only moments ago. "It came for you."

Watanuki narrowed his eyes, always distrustful. "From who?" He took it from her, reaching for the seal.

Yuuko shook her head and held out a hand to stop him. "Not here." She made shooing motions with her hands. "At home."

He eyed her as he bent to put on his shoes. "Yuuko–san…?"

Another careful glance. "Your parents."

Watanuki was glad to see Doumeki waiting for him at the gate.

_I let my world close in around, __A smaller patch of fading sky_

"Hey." Doumeki shot at Watanuki. "Are you running another errand?" Doumeki knew he wasn't, of course, not with the way his eyes were glued to the sidewalk, not with the way he was clutching the flat envelope to his chest with one hand. Watanuki ignored him and continued walking. So Doumeki flipped around, walking backwards to face Watanuki, who finally looked up from his feet.

"You're going to trip, moron." The words were familiar but they had no heat to them, and Doumeki's concern shifted from what spirits would attempt to harass Watanuki to what internal storm he was trying to ride out. Well, Doumeki surmised, the only thing that was different at all was the package. The seal wasn't broken so he probably didn't know what was inside, and since Watanuki wasn't choking or covering his mouth, it couldn't be sinister; wherever it had come from was obviously what was upsetting Watanuki.

And since he had just come from Yuuko's, it undoubtedly came from some supernatural source. It wasn't like Yuuko had a mailbox, after all.

Doumeki peered at Watanuki's face, bending slightly for a better look, complete heedless of his surroundings. Watanuki's eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth a tight, pinched line, but his eyes were distant – and suddenly Doumeki felt completely and utterly out of his element.

Things between them were shifting, but he wasn't prepared for this. He wanted to see him _smile_, damn it. Grumbling, shouting Watanuki he was used to; gentle, giving Watanuki made him happy to see, even if slightly jealous (he hadn't even looked at him when he'd said thank you, damn it). But this was a facet of Watanuki that hurt to see: lost, idly kicking at stones on the sidewalk, knuckles white where they curled around the edge of the package.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it._ What was he supposed to do? Doumeki felt like he was being pecked apart by a thousand tiny, sharp–beaked birds. Watanuki so obviously needed something, _someone_ and it hurt so bad to see him this way –

Half a block later, it finally occurred to Doumeki.

Watanuki needed a friend.

_And now I've grown beyond the walls, __To where I've never been_

What could be in the package? Why now, when he'd just begun to face the things his near–death experience had brought crashing down on him? It wasn't enough that he'd finally forced himself to admit that maybe the fortune–teller had been right, in her kind way. He needed Doumeki around, and he was even starting to… enjoy it. A little bit. Maybe.

Watanuki huffed a breath through his nose, annoyed that even when he obviously had _other_ things to think about that stupid archer was still in his brain, stuck to the inside like some sort of residue. He tried to think back to what the fortune–teller had said; not much about Doumeki, absolutely nothing about Himawari–chan, mostly about… his parents. They'd saved him twice already; what else would they need to give him? Watanuki closed his eyes, partially to avoid Doumeki's intensely conflicted stare, but mostly to quell the rising wave of sadness that filled him whenever he remembered his parents' voices, the way they encouraged him and coaxed him back into the living world.

He remembered so little from when they were alive; he knew his father had been a great cook, and Watanuki had spent hours with him in the kitchen, learning how to make sticky rice and roll sushi and sift flour properly. His mother had been smiling and patient, teaching him how to mend seams and sweep floors and iron laundry without burning it, all in some form of game he would enjoy: it hadn't occurred to Watanuki until much, much later that they had been preparing him, young as he was, for this life of loneliness.

And the fortune–teller had told him that his parents were proud of the young man he'd become. Why did that, for some reason, seem to hurt the worst?

_And it's still winter in my wonderland_

Doumeki knew as soon as Watanuki closed his eyes he was going to have a klutzy moment. So he was unsurprised when the tip of Watanuki's shoe caught a crack in the pavement and he pitched forward; Doumeki's hands shot out and steadied him by his shoulders. But he hadn't realized he'd been walking so close that Watanuki's forehead would smack into his collarbone, hard enough to sting.

Doumeki sucked in a quiet breath, but only because Watanuki looked disoriented as he grabbed at Doumeki's forearms to regain his balance, body leaning toward Doumeki's. Watanuki lifted a hand to grab the glasses away from his eyes and rub his forehead, and Doumeki glanced down to make sure he was okay and instead got a faceful of soft, slippery hair that smelled of Yuuko's smoke and apple shampoo and the spices he must've used on his chicken yakitori.

He couldn't help himself as he took a deep breath, and realized it was a mistake. The feeling he'd been channeling into archery and meditation and teasing and his overall concern rushed back in its full–blown, inconceivable form: Doumeki tightened his hands on Watanuki, swallowing hard, as his vision began to narrow at the edges. Not now, not without his bow, not when Watanuki certainly didn't need to be faced with another hurdle, but being so close made it so_ hard _– once it began, Doumeki was wise enough to know, it wouldn't be stopped until completion. And who knew what that was?

_I'm waiting for the world to fall_

Watanuki's head swam from the knock to the head and the warmth of Doumeki's hands on his shoulders, and Watanuki couldn't miss how solid Doumeki's arms were under his palms. Arms that had carried his unconscious body how far, how many times? Hands that were tightening on his shoulders, as if they were about to push him away or maybe… pull him in?

He felt Doumeki's adam's apple bob against the top of his head, and Watanuki couldn't help leaning into him a little more, taking in the scent of his school uniform, a mixture of incense and skin and laundry soap and the musky wax he used to polish his bow. Watanuki sighed deep as he closed his eyes, still clutching his glasses in one hand. He wanted to straighten, to lean into Doumeki and rest his face in the crook of his neck and feel those arms around him _just once_ when he didn't need to be saved. But no, he wanted the comfort but he wasn't so sure about the person, not that Doumeki could ever be considered _comforting_, but that scent was the epitome of sanctuary and relief. _No._ He just let his face hang in the space between their chests, afraid to lift his eyes to see what Doumeki's held. Maybe he couldn't pull away, but he wouldn't crumble either.

"Watanuki." The voice rumbled beneath his forehead, and it struck Watanuki that not once had his name come out of Doumeki's mouth with the standard honorific. He never thought it more than Doumeki refusing to treat Watanuki with common courtesy, a constant veiled insult from the one person he couldn't control himself around. But with Watanuki leaning into him, still holding onto his arm, and Doumeki radiating indecision and_ pheromones_, his hands so, so warm, the sheer intimacy it implied caused Watanuki to panic.

_I'm waiting for the scene to change_

Watanuki's head shot up, but Doumeki's face was still tilted down. Doumeki hissed in a breath as the top of Watanuki's head smacked into the point of his nose, and he planted a foot backwards to keep upright. It stung, like Watanuki's forehead had, and Doumeki lifted one finger and plugged the nostril he could feel blood beginning to trickle from. _Huh._ He hoped Watanuki wouldn't start shouting, because then he'd only be able to cork one ear.

But Watanuki just glared, straightening as he put his glasses back on. "Well, if you weren't turned around, that wouldn't have happened."

Doumeki wiped his hand off on his pants, and Watanuki winced. Doumeki tipped his head back, retrieving his handkerchief from a pocket to staunch the flow. "Then it'd be you with the bloody nose."

Watanuki stared at him as if he was crazy. "Will you walk normally? That was a little…" Doumeki narrowed his eyes at the pause, his mind filling in the blank several ways – _startling, awkward, tempting_ – none of which were ever going to come out of Watanuki's mouth. "…Weird." Watanuki finished, bending over to gather up his book–bag and the mysterious package. _Well, at least mine were more imaginative._ Doumeki shook his head, beginning to walk again, unperturbed by Watanuki's brusqueness but puzzled by the moment that preceded it.

_I'm waiting when the colors come_

Watanuki stomped ahead, feigning irritation so he could get a moment away from Doumeki's searching eyes. He didn't want Doumeki to know just how _unfair_ that moment could've turned out for the both of them, even if Doumeki ended up with a bloody nose and Watanuki had a nice welt across his forehead. They were both used to physical injury; it was anything else that was dangerous. _How weak am I? Thinking about using _Doumeki_ for comfort?_

But when they reached the apartment building's door and Watanuki reached for his key, the weight of the package in his hands seemed too heavy to drag upstairs. Watanuki unlocked the door hesitantly, and Doumeki turned to leave once he was inside.

The panic came again, deep and desperate. Humiliation wasn't anything compared to the need to have Doumeki there with him as he broke the seal and spilled whatever was contained inside across his table. _Besides, what if it's some sort of trick?_ Never mind that Yuuko had given it to him or that Doumeki didn't have his bow. It sounded like a good enough excuse, because it was frighteningly clear that he just couldn't do another thing like this _alone._

"Wait!" Watanuki snapped his mouth shut with a click, sounding a whole lot more pleading than he'd meant to. But Doumeki was turning around slowly, and Watanuki's brain function ceased at all the things written between the lines of his face: his mouth was set, but his eyes were sly and patient, and Watanuki only saw it for a second before it became a receptive mask. But that look – it had been so much like Haruka's habitual expression that Watanuki was both relieved and bewildered. It was what he needed, that someone to talk to, and he always seemed to forget just how alike grandfather and grandson were. But Watanuki's heart tightened when he realized that maybe Doumeki felt this sorrow every once in a while, too.

Watanuki turned to head up the steps to his apartment, unsure of how much of the night would show to be a mixed blessing. But he was glad, as he was when he'd reached Yuuko's gate, to know that Doumeki was there.

_I'm waiting to let my world to come undone_

Doumeki slipped off his shoes as Watanuki disappeared into the kitchen, ever the proper host, and Doumeki reached up to switch on the light above the table as he heard the stove click on in the kitchen. He settled himself down, picking up the package from the tabletop and turning it over in his hands. White, flat, broad, no visible markings or address, and whatever was inside shifted against itself. Doumeki had a good idea of what it was.

Watanuki came into the doorway, holding a tray of tea and a small plate of his homemade candies. Doumeki put the package back down onto the table carefully as Watanuki crossed the room, setting down the tea and sitting across from Doumeki. The melancholy look he'd seen at the meteor shower was there again as he picked up the package. "Yuuko said it's from my parents." Doumeki nodded. He'd figured that was where it had come from, if his hunch was correct.

But Watanuki fingered the seal of the envelope before raising his eyes. "Do you miss your grandfather, Doumeki?"

_I close my eyes and try to see t__he world unbroken underneath_

Watanuki watched as Doumeki's face went from passively curious to dead still. _Oh, no_. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. But he needed to know, needed to be reassured that he wasn't alone in this feeling. Hell, wasn't a question better than throwing himself into Doumeki's arms and… the things that might have come of that?_ Oh, god, why does that sounds like a fantasy?_

Watanuki ignored the nagging voice that sounded too much like Yuuko – when had Doumeki begun to permeate his brain? – to zero in on Doumeki. He already knew Doumeki wasn't the type to dwell; he wouldn't wallow in meaningless self–pity. But of course, Watanuki had probably managed to hit a nerve anyway and would likely be greeted with a closing door any second now.

And that calm, calm look scared the hell out of him.

He dropped his gaze back to the seal of the envelope and shook his head as if he could take back the question. He reached for the teapot and poured two cups, shoving one across the table. Foolish to think Doumeki would share something like that with him.

The silence hung so long Watanuki glanced up just to make sure Doumeki hadn't done the scary–and–silent thing and snuck out on him. Doumeki's face was still impassive but his eyes were waiting for Watanuki's, and they held something steady and firm.

"Every day."

Watanuki locked into the gaze, suddenly stricken by the realization that he'd never taken the time to _look_ at Doumeki. He'd be able to recognize his face, rattle off the color of his eyes, that sort of thing. But when had he ever stopped and just _looked _at him? And now, like always, his face gave away no secrets; it could hold the all the answers to every question that sat in Yuuko's treasure vault and no one would ever know the difference, but his eyes…

Watanuki got the feeling that as long as they never changed, he would be alright.

_And already it just might make the life I lead a__ little more than make–believe_

It was photographs, just like Doumeki suspected. A few were, as he thought of them, pre–Kimihiro – showing his parents' wedding day, his mother pregnant, that sort of thing. Doumeki sifted through them, unsurprised that the vast majority of them were of Watanuki.

They were spread across the small table, and Doumeki picked up one after another, drinking in the sight of Watanuki before he'd known him, before Doumeki was necessary. Watanuki as a baby, wrapped in a blue blanket and sleeping with one tiny fist pressed into a cloudy eye; Watanuki and his father, splattered head to toe in tempura batter and grinning at each other; Watanuki no more than five years old, sleeping in his mother's lap on what appeared to be a train. Each portrayed a happy feeling, like they were enjoying every moment of parenthood they had, taking nothing for granted. And since Watanuki's curse was passed down through blood, it made sense that they would treasure it; just how much of their son's hitsuzen had they known?

Doumeki picked up a picture that was face down, intrigued by the simple description on the back: _Kimi–chan, age seven_. From everything he'd figured out, it must've been merely months before they died. When he turned it over, he was struck: it showed a young, yukata–clad Watanuki at a night fair, booths and lights behind him, proudly holding up a clear plastic bag containing a tiny goldfish. His face clearly revealed the young man he was changing into: the same pointed chin, glasses slightly askew on a delicate nose, high cheekbones, wide, blue eyes filled with glee. But…

That smile, broad and bright and unbroken, was unlike anything Doumeki had ever seen. It was snapshot of pure Watanuki, probably before he realized his curse, before he became jaded and lonely and uncertain. Before everything had been taken away. _That_ was the smile Doumeki needed to see… No. Not see. _Create._

_When all my skies are painted blue_

Watanuki looked up from a picture of himself on a swing–set to see Doumeki engrossed in a photograph; he watched as Doumeki lifted a finger and traced it down the edge. Watanuki caught his breath; Doumeki looked so much like his grandfather had when he'd done the same exact thing in a recent dream. But Doumeki was touching the photograph like it was breaking his heart.

Watanuki thought about how sturdy Doumeki had felt earlier. Why was Doumeki even here? What drew him back to Watanuki, again and again by choice, when all he ever did was shout and fight and lose his temper? Watanuki was very familiar with the pattern of his behavior around Doumeki. And he knew it didn't make sense.

Watanuki trailed his fingers through the pile of photos, a sea of memories of a family that hardly had a chance. Hitsuzen dictated that, just like hitsuzen had dictated the young man who was sitting across from him now: he'd never be able to control the things that it threw at him. It scared him beyond belief to think that it would just take things away, heedless of his needs, and Watanuki thought about that glimpse he'd gotten at Doumeki, his eyes a sudden beacon, never changing. _What if that gets taken away, too?_

The air in his chest was nonexistent at the thought, and Watanuki set down his cup of tea, wrapping trembling hands around the porcelain.

But then his hands were being pressed into the teacup, cradled from both sides, because Doumeki was leaning across the table, thumbs resting across the knuckle of Watanuki's thumbs, pads of his own barely rubbing, fingertips grazing the outside of his wrists, tickling just a little.

It was comfort, it was safety, it was more than he'd ever ask for, and Doumeki's eyes were on him again. Watanuki's hands stopped their shaking as he realized that to Doumeki, this was just another facet of protecting him, no different from all the physical strain it normally involved. Had he actually thought that Doumeki did it for glory?

Doumeki did it because he was a friend.

Doumeki would always be there, and he'd never think twice about it. Watanuki already knew this, of course, but he didn't know it could feel so _right_.

_And all the clouds don't ever change t__he shape of who I am to you_

Doumeki forgot about all the things that were raging inside him: the uncertainty of their friendship, the ache over the inexplicable memory of his grandfather, the slight awkwardness of being in Watanuki's apartment. Watanuki was gazing back at him, something like expectation in his eyes, and Doumeki didn't know the words.

How could he tell Watanuki that no matter what happened, what did or did not occur between them, he would always be waiting for him? How could he let him know that he didn't care if he didn't exist to Watanuki, as long as he allowed Doumeki to make the world a little less lonely, for the both of them?

How should he tell Watanuki that, in the end, Doumeki didn't have a _choice_ – he couldn't control Watanuki's entrance into his life any more than he could've prevented the death of his grandfather? Because both events were on par as the most profound in Doumeki's life, and while Haruka's passing had shut him down, Watanuki had opened him back up again, so against his will he couldn't see how it could've played out any other way. And how could he tell him that, despite how much he missed Haruka, he wouldn't change the course of his life for the world?

How could he express that he'd never felt anything as wrenchingly _blissful_ as Watanuki's forehead against his chest?

And since Doumeki didn't have the right words, he didn't say anything at all.

_And when I catch the light of falling stars_

Watanuki took a deep, shuddering breath. He'd make an album out of all these pictures one day, and he'd put it on his bookshelf where he could look at them whenever he liked. But he wouldn't do it now, _couldn't_ do it now; he was content to have them spread across the table.

But Doumeki would be there with him, when he was ready, always waiting to catch Watanuki's eyes when he faltered. Doumeki would sit and munch on cookies while Watanuki organized the pictures into an album. Doumeki would be there when he needed him, Doumeki would be there when he didn't need him, and warmth spread through Watanuki when he realized that there was one thing in his life he could count on: that he could never hide from those golden streaked eyes.

_My view is changing me _

_My view is changing_

This wasn't ever going to change, this feeling. Doumeki knew that. If it was there, it wasn't going to leave. Doumeki knew all about responsibility and obligation, he was learning about companionship and friendship. But _this_, this was frightening – when was the last time he'd felt something so powerful? So all–encompassing?

One day, he'd get that smile back. One day, he'd do much, much more for Watanuki than cradle his hands and comfort him. One day, whatever this was that sat between them over a mess of photographs on a kitchen table, whatever this was that burned and ached and trilled and made Doumeki aware of everything – the temperature of his toes, the flicker of the lightbulb, the way Watanuki's handmade candy coated his tongue – and yet aware of nothing – nothing but Watanuki's eyes gazing into his own like a whole world had just opened up underneath him, nothing but the soft, dry skin under his palms – whatever this was, it was going to blossom and burst, and Doumeki was afraid of that day, yet dying of anticipation all the same.

It was hard to admit, but he knew it was right.

_I'm waiting for the world to fall_

_I'm waiting, I'm waiting_

(Because when we break down, so do our barriers.)


	4. Walking on the Edge

Lyrics this round: If I Am, by Nine Days.

I butchered them horribly for my own purposes. All apologies to Nine Days.

A note mainly for icedragonchilde or others who like to see my writing: I don't always post all my xxxHolic stuff here. If you'd like to read more, it's at my livejournal account linked in my profile!

As always, my sincerest and most profound thanks for your words of delight and encouragement, especially you, anonymous reviewers!

**Walking on the Edge**

Watanuki was in a funk.

It wasn't his normal let's–wave–our–arms–and–protest–too–much disposition, either. He'd been moving in starts and sputters all day when he did manage to do anything at all, hardly focusing enough to even eat lunch. Sure, it meant Doumeki actually got enough food for once, since Watanuki didn't notice when he stole half his bento.

But Doumeki sensed a tantrum of epic proportions in his near future, so he quietly finished his sushi, gave Watanuki a piercing glance, and headed back to class, trying to plot out the most efficient method to stop it dead in the water.

_So you're standing on the ledge  
It looks like you might fall_

Watanuki was… discontent. It was the only way he could think of to describe it. Yuuko's promises of an "enlightening" day had fueled a bizarre mix of pleasant and uncomfortable dreams the night before, a melting pot of ghosts and bells and a faceless, pursuing Doumeki. While none of it was clear, it had been haunting him all day. He successfully dodged Himawari's concern and Doumeki's increasingly penetrating looks, and both had mercifully gone on without him.

Maybe, Watanuki mused while stacking the empty bento boxes, he was just tired of never knowing where his life would take him next. He'd been dead set on university and Himawari and trying his damnest to pretend he didn't see such unusual things. Less than a year later, now where was he?

Stuck with an overbearing boss he'd never be free of, a crush on a girl who just might be the death of him, an ingrate for his closest friend, and waking up every morning wondering what creature would try to eat him that day.

Watanuki sighed and headed to his last classes, a headache beginning to seep between his eyes.

_But you're so far down, well  
Maybe you were thinking about jumping_

Doumeki cut from archery club early, much to his coach's dismay. But he didn't care; the next tournament was weeks off, and he was still in top form. Lots of practice outside of school and the weight of Watanuki's life had seen to that. Right now, Doumeki had something much more important to accomplish.

His patience was running out.

Watanuki had been acting like a frightened rabbit around him for two weeks, hardly making eye contact, never raising his voice. Even his protests and admonishments were half–hearted. Doumeki figured it was time to work out exactly where they stood.

But the trick of it, he knew, was to pull it off so subtly that Watanuki didn't even realize it was happening. Because that was the only way Watanuki seemed to learn anything at all.

_Now you could have it all  
If you learned a little patience_

Watanuki sighed for the millionth time that day. He leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the wooden park bench.

He'd never forgotten that day, or the things that led up to it. Sharing coffee with her, Yuuko's phone call, the unyielding pavement under his knees, the taste of his own blood in the back of his throat. The angrily determined expression on Doumeki's face, the first time he'd ever seen something besides amusement and annoyance. Her parting words, most of all – they rang in his mind every time he felt like throwing his hands up. Yes, he had people who didn't want to lose him, whatever kind of complications it held – Yuuko, Himawari, Haruka, the Zashiki–Warashi, Doumeki. All had sacrificed for him.

The last one on that list filled Watanuki was a sort of gleeful dread. He'd broken down that night, two weeks ago. He was quite aware that Doumeki had all but said he'd be there no matter what – _Of course, the moron_ – as if Watanuki even had a choice in the matter. It was still hard to swallow past the lump in his throat when he thought about it too much, and that coupled with the flush that rose when he thought about how he'd practically _held hands_ with Doumeki, well, it was almost too much to handle. Of course, none of it stopped the one nagging, simple, itty–bitty question that circled in his head: Why?

_But though I cannot fly  
I'm not content to crawl_

Doumeki had an inkling of what was bothering Watanuki. It was because of that night, when he'd received the package from his parents.

Something had changed. Okay, to be fair, things had changed that night in the park with the meteor shower, but that was the first time Watanuki seemed to admit it. Now Watanuki was running scared, and while Doumeki couldn't blame him one bit, it didn't make the matter any less frustrating.

Doumeki paused mid–stride. He couldn't decide who he was angrier at – Watanuki for trying to pretend nothing had happened, or himself for wanting to push the issue. Why couldn't he be satisfied with the way things were? Why did he need it to be said out loud? It had never bothered him before.

But, then again, Watanuki had reached out for comfort before, either.

Doumeki stared at the bend in the path, around which he'd undoubtedly find what was causing all this… uncertainty. His life had been predictable and safe before Watanuki – it had also been very boring and lonely. But it had been under control, he had never questioned himself, he'd never felt like he wouldn't be able to survive without that disgruntled face at the temple gate every morning. Doumeki had never wanted to be dependant on another person in his entire life, and now… What did he want now?

He wanted to grab Watanuki by the shoulders and shake him, he wanted the fool to smile, he wanted to hear Watanuki say that he didn't mind spending so much time with Doumeki. He wanted a lot of things that he was fairly certain would scare the piss out of Watanuki if he rounded that bend and said them aloud. Things Doumeki had never contemplated before in his life.

None if it changed the fact Watanuki chose to avoid him, as if that very act didn't indicate something was different. It didn't change that Watanuki was likely going to make a rash decision that Doumeki just couldn't live with. Watanuki needed to wake up to a few truths about the two of them. But Doumeki knew it wasn't as easy as it sounded.

Instead, Doumeki grabbed a handle on his anger and resumed his stride.

_So you're walking on the edge  
And you wait your turn to fall_

What scared Watanuki the most was that Doumeki hadn't changed a bit since the day he'd dragged him over the railing of the roof on that school. Doumeki had patiently saved him, time after time, preserving his life and sanity at the sake of his own, and then, the other night, he'd given Watanuki something else he hadn't known he'd needed. A comforting friend. At this rate, he'd have to keep Doumeki around every moment of every day just to breathe. And since he had to keep him around in public just to appear sane, that idea didn't seem too far–fetched at all, much to Watanuki's discomfort.

Watanuki leaned into his hands. _I hate this, I hate this, I hate this._ He just wanted things to go back to normal. No. What he wanted was to get up in the morning without wondering who was going to be maimed in his name by the end of the day.

And Doumeki. He hated how he was coming to depend more and more on him. While the realization Doumeki wasn't going anywhere had been a relief that night, in the light of day, it just wasn't plausible. Watanuki could never expect so much from another person, willing or not, especially since he was already so much of a burden.

_But you're so far gone that you don't see  
The hands upheld to catch you_

Watanuki was sitting right where Doumeki had suspected he would be. It figured that, if he was contemplating what Doumeki thought he was, he'd return here: this park bench where he'd almost died, without a clue of what he was leaving behind. Doumeki didn't deny that one of the things he cherished about Watanuki was his infinitely kind heart. He just wished the fool wouldn't blithely shove his own well–being aside for people he didn't even know were _real_. That day was the first time he'd known for certain just how much Watanuki meant to him. The realization had been sneaking up on him, but… He'd known Watanuki wouldn't forgive him. He'd known that Watanuki would be angry. And he did it anyway. Because Doumeki wasn't going to let him slip away that easily; not when he'd just begun to discover what it was like to share life with someone else.

But even now, Watanuki wouldn't admit he needed him. The goddamned fool would never admit it, and as Doumeki approached the bench where Watanuki was sitting with his face in his hands, Doumeki realized that he was more than a little bit angry.

All the better to force Watanuki to reckon with, he supposed.

But Watanuki looked up at him with such a resigned expression that Doumeki was taken aback. So he sat next to him without a word, keeping the lid on his anger until the right moment. Watanuki just watched him uneasily, like he could hear the ticking of a bomb, and Doumeki began to pick through words. There were many things he could say – but none of them seemed like anything more than hollow promises or biting remarks.

And while Doumeki pondered, Watanuki waited.

_You could find the fault  
In the heart that you've been handed_

So the bastard wasn't going to say anything, _like always_. Just sit there in smug silence and wait for Watanuki to spill his guts just to ease the awkwardness. Well, Watanuki wasn't going to gratify Doumeki's expectations for once. Let the dumbass stew.

The quiet lasted less than five minutes.

"Aren't you supposed to be at archery practice or something? Instead of bugging me with your presence?" Watanuki clenched the edge of the bench again. He didn't need this. Not when he was trying to work things out for himself. He gave Doumeki a sidelong glance, ready to tell him off, but froze.

That same, unmistakably grim look was there. "What are you doing here, Watanuki?" Doumeki didn't look at him, just stared straight ahead.

Watanuki pushed aside the sudden shame. He wasn't going to let Doumeki win. "Is that any of your business?"

That burning–cold stare finally landed on him. "Yes," Doumeki clipped out, "It is."

_But though you cannot fly  
You're not content to crawl_

Doumeki was trying his hardest not to find something to break in half. He could compile a list of all the ways he'd tried to show Watanuki why it was his business: ten hours in the rain, three pints of blood, dozens of missed practice hours, several ruined yukata. But none of it added up for him, did it? It was never enough for Watanuki to realize that, no matter what he did, he'd have to change. Because hell if Doumeki would be the one to give up.

If Watanuki hadn't chose that moment to start talking, Doumeki suspected he might have done something completely out of character for him. Although, looking at Watanuki's obviously distraught face, he couldn't say what it would've been.

Watanuki wrung his hands between his knees, gaze dropping to the pavement. "I'm not going to be a burden anymore."

But then again, the moron had to go and make a statement like that, with that defiant tone of voice – Doumeki's anger began to boil again. _Will you snap out of it?_ _I know you're stronger than this._

"And what," Doumeki ground out, "Makes you think you're a burden?"

_so give me a little credit  
have in me a little faith_

Watanuki stared. How could he not be? Was he even living in the same universe as Doumeki? "All I ever do I take! I can't even control my life to the point that I have to sap from everyone I know just to stay alive." He slammed a hand against the wooden seat, flinching either with the way it stung or the thought that followed on the heels of the previous one. "It just doesn't seem worth it."

And next thing he knew, he was hoisted onto his feet, almost dangling by the throat of his school uniform. Doumeki's eyes burned into him, and Watanuki scrambled at the stronger boy's fist, trying to release himself. "Tell that," Doumeki pushed out from between his teeth, and Watanuki stilled, "to Yuuko. Tell that to the little one at the oden shop. Tell that," Punctuated by a slight shake, "to Kohane and Mugetsu and Himawari. Tell that to the woman that threw herself in front of my arrow." Doumeki's grip trembled a little, and he let go. Watanuki stumbled back onto the bench as Doumeki clenched his fists at his sides. His face was raw, exactly how Watanuki had been feeling for two weeks. Doumeki turned away, but not before Watanuki could see the lost way he lowered his eyes. "But don't _ever_ tell that to me."

_I wanna be with you forever  
If tomorrow's not too late_

Yes, things had changed. This was apparent to Doumeki by the fact it was getting harder and harder to keep a grip. Did Watanuki think he wanted it this way? Because Doumeki hadn't minded his self–contained little world, before he'd learned of endurance and heroism that never quite paid off.

No. He was wrong. He'd never take it back. He'd do it all over again. There was no use lying to himself about that.

So why couldn't he get Watanuki to see that? Why couldn't he convince him that it wasn't all a waste? That he'd be the failure, in the end, for not showing Watanuki how he felt? Was caring for him, putting Watanuki before himself – was it not enough? How could he show him that yes, things between them had changed irreversibly?

_If I am another waste of everything you've dreamed of  
I will let you down_

Doumeki sat back down next to an astonished Watanuki, who peered at him cautiously. Doumeki didn't look the least bit apologetic. But with the way he was staring straight ahead, his face unearthly calm – and that uncontrolled look in his eyes, moments before. Watanuki knew him well enough to realize that he was trying to work something out in his mind, and whatever it was, Watanuki was sure he wasn't going to like it one bit. Best to circumvent it, if he could.

"I'm just tired of it all. Tired of taxing everyone else and never being able to change anything." He dropped his face so Doumeki couldn't see it. "I want you to be able to do whatever you want. I want you… to be free of these bonds. I don't want to have to need you all the time."

_If I am only here to watch you as you suffer  
I will let you down_

_Ah,_ Doumeki managed to think philosophically, _this is what heartbreak feels like._ There was a gaping hole, approximately where his heart should be, gouged out with Watanuki's last words. _He wants… to be free._

_No, no, no, _That same rational voice chided. _That's not what he said. He wants _you_ to be free, moron._

His anger was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a desperate need to get Watanuki to take back that statement. Doumeki did some fast thinking, and what came out of his mouth surprised him. "I haven't."

Watanuki looked up at him, confused. "Haven't what?"

Doumeki let out a deprecating chuckle at his own foolishness. "Ever wished on a falling star." Doumeki let out his breath. So much for subtlety. "But I know what I would ask."

_The answers we find  
Are never what we had in mind  
So we make it up as we go along_

Doumeki turned to look at Watanuki in painfully slow motion. Yuuko's words seemed to echo in his head: _his decisions carry far more weight_. With Doumeki, it was never idle, it was never fleeting. If Doumeki had a wish, everyone else had better pay attention, because that meant things were going to happen. Watanuki had the eerie feeling that Yuuko was going to pop out of a bush any second.

Doumeki's eyes searched the grooves in the sidewalk. Watanuki had an odd sense of nostalgia. Doumeki should be standing in front of him, bow in hand, instead of sifting through words sitting next to him. Doumeki should be angry and unwavering, not hesitant and burnt–out. All the same, Watanuki was hanging on his next words.

Doumeki looked up at him, straightening against the back of the bench – his eyes were searching but sure. "I'd wish to see you smile."

Watanuki's brain function died for a full three seconds. Surely, it couldn't be that easy. But it was there – Yuuko's teasing, Himawari smiling as Tanpopo chirped on her shoulder. Mugetsu pouting and sulking because he hadn't been named. The Zashiki–Warashi, blushing as she came to check on him.

Doumeki, watching him as he watched the falling sky. Doumeki, dirty or bleeding or skipping practice or stroking the sides of Watanuki's hands with his thumbs.

God, he'd been stupid. Watanuki couldn't help it.

He smiled.

_You don't talk of dreams  
I won't mention tomorrow  
We won't make those promises that we can't keep_

Doumeki was floored. Astounded. Flabbergasted. There wasn't a word in all the land of the soul of language that could describe the way that smile made Doumeki feel.

He knew, though, that the instant Watanuki opened his eyes to see Doumeki gaping like an idiot he'd lose it all over again to awkward tension. Besides, he wasn't quite through yet – he still had one more point to make.

Doumeki leaned forward, trying to keep his head clear, which was turning out to be quite a bit more difficult than he'd expected. "Oi." Watanuki's eyes flared open, forehead tightening in annoyance. "You do the needing," Doumeki told him, pointing a finger, "and I'll," the finger pressed into his own chest, "do the wanting."

Doumeki almost smiled, because now Watanuki was the one gaping like an idiot.

_I will never leave you  
I will not let you down_

"And tomorrow," Doumeki's mouth settled into his trademark smirk, "I want inari sushi."

Watanuki's mouth shut with a click as a mental scoreboard popped into his head: _Spirit bait: 0. Bow–slinging exorcist: 1._

"I don't take requests, jerk!" Watanuki exclaimed, and proceeded to chew Doumeki out the entire walk to the shop. But, for once, he went to bed at night not dreading the morning.

Besides, he'd just have to catch Doumeki off–guard with a smile again, and the scoreboard would be even.

Watanuki liked that idea.

_I will never leave you  
I will not let you down_

(Because love can make us rethink our whole lives.)


	5. Break My Fall

Lyrics are from Second Chances, by October Fall.

Forever thanks to my reviewers. You make my world a brighter place!

Happy Beltine!

**Break My Fall **

Watanuki didn't recognize the street he was standing on; well, streets, he supposed. He was at the center of some intersection of back crossroads, in his school uniform with his bookbag tucked under his arm. But it wasn't any place he recognized; it was dusk now, not night like it had been when Doumeki had watched him unlock the door into his apartment building. And that was the last clear thing he remembered. So what was he doing here now? And just where was he, anyway?

_I'm sick of second chances  
Cigarettes turn to ashes_

Watanuki pushed his glasses (hadn't he taken them off?) further up his nose, leaning forward to peer at the street sign so he could head home. When he saw the wooden post held nothing but the character _shikai_, he began to panic.

_I'm standing under street signs to know  
The places I've been my whole life_

Doumeki had long been in the habit of meditating when his frequent bouts of insomnia struck. They'd begun shortly after his grandfather's death, and he did what young boys do when faced with an unaccountable situation: he emulated the one he admired most. Haruka had always stressed that it was good for mind, body, and spirit alike, and so Doumeki began to practice silent meditation. While it wasn't exactly sleep, it was rest.

_I watch the hours pass us  
Another one burns to ashes_

Doumeki kept the room dark, and he knelt on a mat in the center of it, hands palms down on his knees, breathing even and slow. He pushed away the things that had a tendency to swirl in his mind, taking away his sleep: Watanuki's next death–defying decision to what would be in his bento tomorrow to Yuuko's snickering to Watanuki's still infrequent smile. Instead, he imagined a target, the thick black ring around a smaller white one, surrounding the center dot: the thing he needed most. And he was dry–firing his bow, again and again, feeling the strain in his triceps and the way the string cut into his fingertips. He pictured a glowing dart piercing the exact center time and again, each one sharper and clearer and thinner than the last, until the arrows were needles, so small and precise he couldn't tell it was hitting the bull's-eye at all.

Doumeki was also long acquainted with intuition. It was another thing he learned from his grandfather: intuition was not to be ignored. And so he never had, and it routinely led to Watanuki's continued survival and Doumeki's continued sanity. He often felt passing flashes of it when in this state of blank–mindedness, and, like he was taught, he listened to it unquestioningly.

So when Doumeki heard his name whispered softly by a voice that couldn't be in the temple, he opened his eyes to see his sight had split. One half was filled with the darkness of the room, and the other half was a unlit ceiling, light bulb curled into its box like a sleeping snake. But what alarmed him was not the shift of vision, but the small, white paper fluttering down toward his right eye; a slip of paper adorned with the familiar markings of a protective ward.

Doumeki was also long aware of duty, and to him, it was the weight of a bow in his left hand.

_I'm waiting for your phone call_

Watanuki woke with a shudder, his hands clutching at the blanket, his heart in his throat, and Doumeki's name on his lips. He didn't think to analyze his dream or the things that followed it upon waking, for as soon as he opened his eyes he heard a rustling noise above him. His east wall's ward was drifting toward his face, before it came to rest gently on his nose.

He hardly any time to be startled over that, either, because somewhere in the hallway outside his bedroom, something let out a deep, unearthly chuckle.

_To come and save me_

Watanuki rolled to his side, grabbing the vial of salt he always kept near him and scrambling toward the corner where the phone sat. He didn't stop to think about how weird it was that he knew the number by heart, or that it was the middle of the night, or that maybe Doumeki would be sleeping. He could feel the sweat beginning to bead at his hairline. _Please, please, pick up, moron!_ But the phone line at the Doumeki temple rang once… twice… three times.

The chuckle came from right outside his bedroom door, and Watanuki glanced over at it, phone still ringing in his hand.

It hovered at the door, _in the door_, a black shadow with four snarling, grinning heads, each with a set of glistening red eyes and gnashing teeth. Its body was long and low, like a hound's, except its front paws weren't touching the hardwood floor. Its back haunches tapered off into a skinny set of clawed toes, and a sinuous, pointed tail flicked against the air behind it, spear–like tip poised overhead like a scorpion's tail.

It rumbled again, throaty, raw, and hungry, gleeful that the barriers had fallen. Watanuki's eyes fell on the second–story window, his recently acquired fear of heights no match for the desperate need for an escape path.

_So you could break my fall_

Doumeki sprinted across the courtyard of Watanuki's apartment complex, arms pumping at his sides, intent on the door that would undoubtedly be locked. It didn't matter. He'd learned what happened if he wasn't there in time, and a broken door did not compare to _that_.

But he skidded to a stop when he heard the scrape of wood against wood, and he looked up to see Watanuki shoving at the window pane with his skinny arms, opening it to its full height. His face was panicked, distracted, and an autumn leaf fluttered into Doumeki's vision as he realized Watanuki was contemplating the distance between the window and the nearest sturdy branch. Doumeki's ribcage clutched. _No. Not again!_

"Oi!" Doumeki called up to him once he was directly underneath the window. Watanuki stared down at him like Doumeki was a figment of his imagination, and glanced back into the room. Doumeki, very clearly, saw the four–headed creature prowling across the tiny room, intent on its prey, perilously close. He felt a trill of fear course through him. "Watanuki! Jump!"

The fool hesitated. Doumeki could see the fear etched across his narrow face, recalling his last fall. The creature had been closing in fast; it must be a mere breath away now.

Doumeki caught Watanuki's unsure eyes. "Trust me!"

And for better or worse, Watanuki's pale, bare foot appeared on the window sill, and then he was flying down toward Doumeki's outstretched arms.

_I will stand outside  
Wait for you to come find me_

Watanuki felt Doumeki's arms wrap around a hip and his ribcage as he tossed them to one side, softening the blow as both boys crashed into the soft flowerbed, a tangled mess of limbs and dirt and heavy gasping. They lay still, catching their breath, before Watanuki pushed himself off Doumeki's chest, certain he had injured him somehow. But Doumeki's eyes were wide and angry, glaring past Watanuki's face toward the window. He shot up to his feet, wrenching on Watanuki's arm and pushing him toward the gate. "Still there." He lifted his bow, aiming up at the window, and glanced at Watanuki. "Run. To the temple." His tone bore no argument even as Watanuki reflexively opened his mouth in protest, and he furrowed his brow as he drew back the bowstring. "Now, Watanuki!"

But Watanuki couldn't help pausing by the gate, eyes riveted to the boy so intent on protecting him, hell or high water. Nothing between here and the temple could be as horrifying as the creature that Watanuki wouldn't raise his eyes to look at, but he wasn't about to leave Doumeki behind to figure out exactly how nasty that… creature was capable of being, exorcist or not. "Doumeki!"

He didn't glance back, concentration intense on the window. "I'm right behind you."

Watanuki didn't start running until he heard the _twang_ of the bowstring, and only then because he could hear Doumeki's feet slapping the concrete alongside his own.

_I will keep on my light  
By my bed till you get home_

"You're not going back!" Doumeki turned from the doorway, still in his soiled yukata. He'd made sure Watanuki was carefully enclosed in the center room of the temple, candles lit in the corners and a bowl of suibon water to reinforce the existing wards. So he'd picked up his bow again, determined to exterminate the creature that _dared_ hunt Watanuki in his own apartment. And the saved boy was telling him he wasn't going back.

He looked at Watanuki, sputtering with his arms flapping about his sides. Doumeki pointed to the futon laid out on the floor. "Sleep. I'll be back."

Watanuki vibrated with anger. But Doumeki was used to it. Normally he'd disregard the irritation with nonchalance, but that stubborn streak in Watanuki made it a dangerous decision sometimes. It was how Doumeki had lost half an eye, even if he didn't regret it for an instant. But the eye was how he saved Watanuki's life tonight, after all. A small sacrifice to make. _I just gained that smile. I am not going to lose it again._

Watanuki grabbed for the jacket Doumeki had hung by the door. "I don't need to stay here. I'll go to Yuuko's."

That was not an option. "No."

Watanuki stared at him in disbelief. Doumeki crossed his arms from where he blocked the door. "And why not?"

"That creature got through her wards."

"And I'll be safer here?" Watanuki's voice dripped with patient mockery. Doumeki nodded. Watanuki shook his head, incredulous. "What makes you think that?"

Doumeki jabbed a finger at one corner of the room, his threshold on explanations about crossed for the night. "My grandfather made those wards." And Doumeki took the apartment key from Watanuki's hand and left, assured that Watanuki wouldn't follow.

_And I won't sleep tonight till you get home  
And I won't sleep tonight till you get home_

Watanuki stood, too stunned to move for a minute after Doumeki vanished. _Who does that bastard think he is? Telling me to stay and sleep while he…_ Watanuki shuddered, remembering the sinister glow to the creature's eyes, recalling Yuuko's legends about the hounds of the netherworlds. Dark creatures who liked to siphon ki from their victims, leaving them empty husks, much like the angel–wing parasites they'd encountered. Watanuki remembered the scars webbing Doumeki's hands and arms – the twining ridges across his right wrist from the angel–san demon, the thick band on his palm, tight enough that he couldn't open his hand all the way, from the box–cutter. And of course, the angular, criss–crossing scars all the way up to his elbows from the glass.

_My bed light's burning brighter  
Worn out like a boxing fighter_

Watanuki began to pace the border of the plain room, his agitation only building with every step. He never asked Doumeki for help; he never asked Doumeki to save him. He sure as hell never asked Doumeki to brave a hellhound alone. He _chose_ to do this, _chose_ to put himself in harm's way, and then the damned idiot had the gumption to tell him to sit and stay, like a _pet_, like he'd just be waiting patiently for him to get back. Did he have any idea of the grief Doumeki caused him? The worry and the anxiety and all the nights he'd spent staring at the ceiling, wondering how he'd ever live through the grief and the guilt if something went wrong just once and left him alive but alone, _again_? Did Doumeki have any idea the havoc he wreaked on him, by telling him to _stay and sleep_? No. Doumeki expected him to do what he was told, didn't think he had enough of a brain to figure out that there _may_ be other outcomes other than what Doumeki _told him there would be_.

Watanuki broke his stride to punt a perfectly innocent pillow into the far wall.

_You've got me fighting pillows_

The thing was tricky, Doumeki had to give it that. It had led him out of the apartment complex, away from the town's straight shots of road, toward the park that was a twisting mass of paths and trees and play equipment. It meant to lose him, to leave him behind. It was running. And if it was running, that meant it was scared. _And it should be_.

Doumeki's heart burned, so close to out of control it frightened him. Nothing made Watanuki widen his eyes like that. Nothing forced him to contemplate a fall from another window. Nothing ever laughed in the face of Doumeki's bow. Nothing _dared_ threaten his Kimihiro. _Nothing_.

Doumeki had lived in an isolated world, fueling his drive with his father's cold indifference, his mother's reluctant love, and always the memory of Haruka, steady and encouraging. He had never known anything like Watanuki before. Someone to share with – dangerous errands, bento, a smile and a laugh and sheer, honest anger, even. He'd been practicing archery and determination and force of will his entire life, all in preparation for the purpose Watanuki brought to it.

He'd waited nearly seventeen years to protect Watanuki and nothing, absolutely _nothing_ took that away from Doumeki as long as he still had a heartbeat left.

Doumeki gripped his bow tighter, sprinting lightly on the pads of his feet.

_My eyes just won't close_

Watanuki grabbed the jacket again, determined that he could make the short walk to Yuuko's just fine by himself. If Doumeki had stayed, they could've waited until morning before getting Yuuko's help, and if it meant one less time Doumeki risked himself needlessly for his sake, Watanuki would gladly let her take it out of his paycheck.

It was the one thing Watanuki knew Doumeki would never understand: he hated the helplessness he felt in moments like these, and he'd gladly trade whatever it took to finally be on equal ground with the other boy. Because he never, never wanted his safety to be secured by Doumeki gambling his own.

_Till you're at my side_

He'd lost it. Or rather, it had lost him. How could he see the damned thing, anyway? When had he started picking up _that_ skill?

Doumeki held his breath, shifting his grip on his bow and turning slowly to survey the park. He was scanning for the tell–tale shift of shadows and the eight glowing eyes when he heard a dark chortle above him. He lifted his eyes to the place he hadn't checked, and the hellhound gazed hungrily down on him from the branch above, its breath dank and musty like Haruka's long–stored books.

Doumeki barely had time to throw up his arms before it pounced.

_The hours slip to morning  
I see the sun coming up_

Watanuki was reaching for the door when he noticed something that made him pause. There was a futon and assorted bedding rolled up next to the door; he glanced back at the futon spread out and the pillow still against the wall. Why would he need another futon? It was stacked so neatly, as if waiting for someone to come home and roll it out, just like that. And this wasn't even a guest room; Watanuki was only staying here because it was the most protected room in the temple. The only reason for there to be more than one futon would be if Doumeki… _Oh_.

Apparently Doumeki was being _very_ literal when he said he'd be back.

_I'm watching faster than  
You gave up on me_

"Yes... you are quite the delicious treat, aren't you?"

Doumeki lay perfectly still, trying not to wince as the creature dug a claw into his shoulder. "You will keep me strong for decades, much more so than that other one." It stroked the tip of its stinger down Doumeki's cheek slowly, as if savoring the scratch against his faint stubble, and he could feel the trickle of blood as it ran down his cheekbone over the curve of his ear.

Doumeki slid one hand slowly, carefully up his bow.

It laughed again, lifting the stinger high into the air, and Doumeki took in everything he could in that split second – the angle of the wind, the breaking streaks of dawn in the trees, the sight in his right eye of shaking hands carefully making up the second futon in his favorite room in the temple.

The stinger whipped down – Doumeki's bow flashed up.

_But you're far away from me  
When I need you here_

Watanuki found himself, once again, staring at the ceiling and the light that played across the shoji screens. _Trust me_. He rolled to his side, only to see the empty futon he'd rolled out and made up. _I'll be back_. But Watanuki knew what time it was. Doumeki had been gone for too long. Where was he, the fool? Watanuki closed his eyes, trying to suppress the acrid taste at the back of his mouth. _Fool, fool, fool!_

There was a shuffling outside the door, and Watanuki tensed, a vision of the hellhound bursting in and dragging Doumeki's broken body behind it filling his mind.

Watanuki stared wild–eyed as the screen slid back. His breath came out so fast he nearly fainted when he saw that Doumeki stood in the doorway, his yukata even filthier than before, caked head to toe in blood and dirt and sweat, clutching his bow that had a broken string. He gave Watanuki, now sitting up staring at him in relief, an irritated glance. "I told you to get some rest."

Watanuki nailed him in the gut with a pillow.

_I will stand outside  
Wait for you to come find me_

Doumeki let his bow clatter to the floor by his futon, tired enough to leave cleaning and replacing the string until the morning. He was tired, he was dirty, he was still bleeding, and he'd barely managed to take the hellhound by surprise to banish it.

But he was heartened to see Watanuki sitting up and watching him, his face a display of alarm and concern. Doumeki just waved a hand at him. "I'm going to sleep. If you wanna stare all night, be my guest."

Ah, now that was better. Watanuki began to sputter a protest before snatching his pillow from where it rested near Doumeki's feet and rolling over, giving his back to Doumeki. Doumeki just smiled, stripping off his yukata and crawling onto the futon. The light from the candles bounced from corner to corner, casting an eerie glow to the room.

Doumeki lay on his back, listening to Watanuki's soft breathing, and he'd just closed his eyes when the breathing became an inquiry. "Did you almost die tonight?" His voice was angry, like he was laying down a challenge.

But Doumeki certainly wasn't going to answer _that_ question. "I told you I'd come back."

_I will keep on my light  
By my bed till you get home_

Watanuki waited until Doumeki's breathing was even before rolling over slowly. Watanuki buried his face into his pillow, peeking out with his left eye to look at Doumeki's profile in the flickering light, solid and calm and grimy.

He crept a hand across the foot of floor space between them, unsurprised when he found what he needed halfway across. He buried his face deeper to hide the blush that was flushing up his cheeks, but he was smiling when he closed his eyes again.

_And I won't sleep tonight till you get home_

Doumeki opened one eye, catching the edge of a blush and a smile before Watanuki turned away. He let it fill him, wiping away all the ache and strain and exhaustion, that smile and the hand resting in his more than worth the effort he'd gone through. He laced his fingers tighter into Watanuki's, letting the warmth from their pressed palms travel up his arm, and he felt the insomnia that had plagued him for nearly a week begin to slip away.

He traced his thumb over the ridge of Watanuki's, and then he was asleep.

_And I won't sleep tonight till you get home._

(Because it all goes away when you're together again.)


	6. Time to Try

Lyrics are !drumroll! True, by Ryan Cabrera.

Please let me know if you are enjoying this series! I really, really, _really _love to hear from people! Cookies For Reviewers!

**Time to Try**

When he reached the temple gates and Doumeki wasn't there waiting for him, Watanuki knew he was in trouble. Not only because of the list of what–ifs that ran through his mind – s_ick? Never. Went on without me? No. In the path of dire peril? More likely._ – But mostly because it dawned on him with striking clarity that, if indeed one of those things had happened, his day was in danger of being completely ruined. Because Doumeki wouldn't be there. He'd get class and lunch and, if he was lucky, the walk home all alone with Himawari–chan, and that should make his day. Not ruin it. Doumeki, of all people, should not have that sort of influence over Watanuki's life. And while on one level it pissed him off, on a warmer, fuzzier level he hadn't expected anything less.

By the time Doumeki did show up – five minutes past their normal meeting time and looking unhurried, unsurprised and unperturbed by Watanuki's impatient foot–tapping – Watanuki was so peeved that he about smashed Doumeki's precious lunch over his smug head. "You made us late again, you jerk," He hissed, shoving the stack of bentos at him. "Now we have to run." Watanuki twirled and broke into a sprint, which Doumeki caught up to without a word or any apparent effort. The run gave Watanuki enough time to calm his nerves and take a few therapeutic deep breaths. Because, really, how could his whole day go to waste by Doumeki's absence from it? Foolish. Absolutely absurd.

Watanuki bent over to catch his breath when they reached the school, glancing at Doumeki from the corner of his eye. The two–minute bell was ringing, and Doumeki was standing there waiting for him. Wasn't the archer the one who'd said he wouldn't miss class over a fool? How had things changed so fast?

Doumeki waited until Watanuki straightened again. "I don't need to be walked to class, you know." Doumeki shrugged, and they parted at Watanuki's classroom door.

_I won't talk, I won't breathe  
I won't move till you finally see_

Doumeki halted outside, about to walk away, but turned back again: through the glass, Watanuki was smiling at Himawari as he put his bag down, and he was bright and distant and _safe_, unaware he was being observed. Doumeki clenched his fist around the knot holding the bento boxes together as the bell rang again. Maybe it was better this way; safety in distance, for the both of them. The thought hurt, but it was true. There were too many complications for anything else to work. _Just friends_, Doumeki reminded himself. _It's hard enough as is._ He was definitely going to be late to class.

It was still irrationally hard to walk away from the door.

_That you belong with me_

Despite trying to concentrate on the lecture, Watanuki's thoughts kept turning back to the morning. It was the first time in a long while that Doumeki had been late. It disconcerted him to realize that his thoughts had not been on his own well–being; he'd been worried that something had gone wrong, that Doumeki had been hurt – not to mention the panic at a whole day without Doumeki. He didn't have anything to miss about the bastard. _Right._

Except his compliments and the pleased way he attacked his lunch. Or how he waited until Watanuki was done to walk him back to class. Okay, maybe the walk home – but that was really because he might get mauled. And yet none of it explained why Watanuki was going to his archery meet that afternoon or why he'd packed an extra bento for the ingrate. He still owed Doumeki for the hellhound–thing – that was it. Even though Doumeki had said that he was just glad Watanuki was safe. His stomach began tying itself in not–entirely–unpleasant knots. Oh, god, safe. Watanuki didn't feel safe. What was safe anymore? Lunch with Doumeki?

He forced himself to focus, but pronouns weren't as interesting as the wave of memories that let loose those sharp–toothed butterflies again. Himawari was shooting him concerned glances, and Watanuki realized his mouth was twitching because he was trying not to grin. _Oh, god, safe. I'm in so much trouble._

It was all he could do to sit through the rest of class.

_You might think I don't look  
But deep inside, the corner of my mind_

_Lunch_, Doumeki repeated to himself, tapping the eraser of his pencil against the desktop. Could it really be two hours away? It shouldn't seem so long. Doumeki's attention kept wandering, despite how he tried to keep it in check.

Watanuki was becoming more and more fascinating by the day. He was apparently more interesting than the Feudal Era, too, because Doumeki hadn't heard a word of the lecture. Watanuki had looked very relieved when Doumeki had stepped out of the gate. Of course, he'd been irritated too, but that was a natural state of being for Watanuki. But he'd looked relieved, just like he had been when Doumeki came back from exorcising the hellhound. Like he'd missed him. Would he have missed him this morning?

His thoughts were taking dangerous turns. _Just friends._ Doumeki paused in his tapping to glance at the clock. One hour and fifty–five minutes. _Lunch._ It was becoming a mantra. Great; he was resorting to meditation to get through a school day. _Lunch._ Doumeki began tapping harder, and stared at the bento boxes, sitting neatly at his feet, that he hadn't handed back to Watanuki.

_Lunch. Lunch. Lunch._ It was easier than thinking of Watanuki.

_I'm attached to you_

The bell rang and the knot in Watanuki's stomach wound a little tighter. The butterflies attacked again. Trying to ignore it, he shoved his notebooks back into his desk and reached for the bento boxes.

Which weren't there. _Oh, no._ He distinctly remembered making them this morning and he could've sworn he had them when he was waiting for Doumeki. Where could they have gone? If he couldn't find them, Doumeki was going to be so disappointed…

"Watanuki–kun?" Himawari's voice was edged with concern. "Are you coming to lunch?" Watanuki raised his head to look at her, aware that his forehead hurt from where he'd dropped it against the wood of the desk. Himawari's mouth was tight at the corners, and a line appeared between her brows. "Are you feeling sick again?"

It was lunchtime, he didn't have the bento, and he couldn't manage to feel indignant about any of it. All he could think about was the downcast acceptance that would undoubtedly show oh–so–very subtly on Doumeki's face and how absolutely terrible it seemed. _Yes, very sick._

Instead, he forced himself to smile. "Oh, no, sorry!" His hands felt empty, so he waved one in the air. "I'm just fine."

Her face cleared, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. _I am in so much trouble._ He trailed Himawari out of the room and tried not to think about it.

_I'm weak, it's true_

Doumeki sat at the bottom of the steps that had become their usual spot; it was raining outside, and he'd forgotten his umbrella. The meet was at another school's range on the other side of town, and he could hitch a ride with one of the other archers, but that would mean leaving Watanuki behind. He'd have to borrow one if it didn't let up, that was all.

The bento boxes sat next to him, still stacked and, like Doumeki, waiting patiently. Despite what Watanuki believed, he really did appreciate the food. It was one of the few indulgences he allowed himself, and coupled with getting to eat it with Watanuki – well, he just enjoyed good food a lot, that was all.

He leaned out to glance up and down the hallway, ignoring the cluster of freshmen girls that were giving him sly looks. Watanuki was going to show up any second. _Hurry up._ Because he wanted to eat his lunch already. Not because he'd been trying not to think about Watanuki for four hours or anything. _Right. Just friends._

Dimly aware that his train of thought was acutely pathetic, Doumeki picked up a pair of chopsticks and began drumming them against the plastic top of the closest bento box.

_'cause I'm afraid to know the answer_

Of course Doumeki had the bento. He'd run all the way to school with them, and in his hurry to get to class, he'd forgotten to take them back. Watanuki breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down on the bottom step, but the knot only screwed itself tighter.

Himawari made to sit down, but a teacher motioned her over from a classroom door. Their conversation was brief as Himawari nodded, before turning back to the boys on the steps. "I'm sorry, Watanuki–kun, Doumeki–kun! I forgot that I promised Tanaka–sensei that I'd help with the arrangements for the next student council meeting. I promise I'll eat lunch tomorrow!"

Watanuki smiled up at her. _Lunch alone with Doumeki?_ The knot compacted and did a 360–degree spin. "It's alright, Himawari–chan! No worries at all!"

She waved as she left. Doumeki reached for the top bento, but Watanuki fluttered a hand at him. "That's mine, moron. Yours is on bottom because it's heavier." Aware that the name–calling was completely unwarranted, he handed Doumeki his lunch.

Doumeki's hand lingered a split second too long on Watanuki's, catching his eye. Watanuki watched with grim fascination as the corner of Doumeki' mouth twitched into a smile, causing the butterflies to explode everywhere again. "Thank you for lunch," he said, and relinquished the box.

Watanuki busied himself with his chopsticks and prayed that Doumeki didn't notice his blush. Now, if only he could get his heart out of his throat.

Why did his hands always have to be so _warm_?

_do you want me too?  
'cause my heart keeps falling faster_

Doumeki pulled back the bowstring, his form perfect; the crowd held its breath, anticipating another bull's–eye from Cross Private School's star archer. But said archer was desperately distracted. It had been hard enough to concentrate all the way to the final round. He just couldn't help it – Doumeki's eyes slid off to the side again.

From where he was sitting next to Himawari, Watanuki leaned forward, his palms pressing the low wall that separated the spectators from the range, watching Doumeki. His eyes were wide and waiting, anxious for his final shot, and Doumeki saw that pale gold eye and thought, _That's mine._ Then he caught Watanuki's gaze and his core hummed like a tuning fork. _All mine._ Right. He was trying to shoot an arrow, not give in to his ever–increasing fantasies about what Watanuki's mouth actually tasted like.

His concentration was wavering again. _Focus._ He couldn't stop looking at Watanuki. It had been a hard enough day, but now… Watanuki just had to smile.

_You don't know what you do  
Every time you walk into the room_

The range was so quiet that Watanuki was sure he could hear a pin drop. Even Himawari next to him had stopped her quiet cheering to stare intently. But Doumeki was looking at him now, out of the corner of his eye like he did when he didn't want to be noticed. He'd become abnormally fond of how Doumeki looked with his bow after the hellhound incident; Watanuki, well acquainted with his butterflies by now, smiled in what he hoped would be an encouraging manner..

His thoughts were erased as Doumeki's eyes widened, his mouth relaxed, and his bow dropped half an inch.

He let go of the bowstring.

_Oh, no, he blew it!_ Then, right on the heels of that: _Because of me!_

The arrow flew, the archery coach groaned, and something beneath Watanuki's ribs, very different from the butterflies, buzzed. _Because of me?_ There was no guilt at the thought, only a perverse sort of pleasure. _Oh, god, I am in so much trouble._ Watanuki didn't realize certain doom could be downright enjoyable.

_I'm afraid to move_

It was a bull's–eye. Barely.

He'd won, although Doumeki knew he'd hear about it from his coach as soon as he got a hold of Doumeki. Best to avoid that for now. So he changed as quickly as he could to avoid any lectures about breaking concentration. Watanuki was waiting for him.

God, that smile.

Doumeki met them outside the range. Himawari was thrilled, clapping her hands together and congratulating him on his win, selectively oblivious to his screw–up. Watanuki, on the other hand, held back; his lips twitched but there was a coy slide to his glance as he looked at Doumeki. _That's right,_ they said. _I know why you almost missed that shot. And I don't mind at all_.

The trio began to head home. Himawari tried to start conversation – "I'm so glad the rain cleared up!" – but when she was given little more than glorified grunts, her eyes darted from Doumeki to Watanuki and back again, a smile settling on her face before she unobtrusively excused herself by the supermarket.

Doumeki and Watanuki continued toward the shop in silence, and Doumeki watched out of the corner of his eye as Watanuki switched the wrapped and empty boxes back and forth between hands. How long had Watanuki known he was Doumeki's greatest weakness? Probably for a very long time, Doumeki mused, ever since the spirit–woman incident. There was no use pretending after that; not for Doumeki anyway. But now it finally seemed that Watanuki was beginning to enjoy that fact.

_And about damned time,_ Doumeki thought, unsurprised by how dreadful and thrilling that was.

_I'm weak, it's true  
I'm scared to know the ending_

Doumeki walked Watanuki toward Yuuko's, and with the cloudy sky and empty streets, he was reminded of the night he'd gotten the pictures from his parents. Simply walking with Doumeki had begun to take on an intimate twist, and Watanuki wondered why. Well, he supposed, getting saved from preternatural horrors, loneliness, and your own damned insecurities could create that sort of situation.

But he still didn't know why it seemed so strange that he wasn't holding Doumeki's hand. Miraculously, with all the things they were carrying between them, nothing was held in their inner hands except for Doumeki's bow, which repeatedly bumped against the outside of Watanuki's leg. He might have been walking a little too close. Yet the bow still hung between them; was Doumeki mad at him for the near–miss?

_Do you see me, too?  
Do you even know you met me?_

Caught between a rock and a hard place, that was how Doumeki felt. If Watanuki was going to keep smiling like that – not that Doumeki minded – he'd never get anything done. And that meant either continually messing up archery or disallowing Watanuki from his meets. Telling the only person besides Himawari that was there to cheer him on not to anymore seemed like a bad idea. He'd have to come up with a good excuse for his coach, fast.

He was having a hard enough time not reaching out for Watanuki's hand. Would it be safe? There had been that unbidden smile and the almost–flirtatious look. When it came to flirting, Doumeki was denser than stone. He was used to giggling girls and subtle offers and eyes following him down the hallway. But with Watanuki? He had to be careful; the last thing he wanted to do was mess up the delicate balance between them or to scare off the skittish boy. And all bets were off with Watanuki. The day that Watanuki wasn't completely unpredictable was the day Yuuko stayed sober.

_Just friends?_ Doumeki glanced at Watanuki, unable to gauge the situation. Watanuki was staring straight ahead, brow furrowed in concentration. The back of his hand nonchalantly bumped against Doumeki's, and Doumeki was willing to bet it was a hint.

_I was a goner, anyway,_ Doumeki mused as he switched his bow to his other hand with his book–bag. Watanuki had been the one to reach out the last time, so he hoped that it was within acceptable boundaries. Doumeki took a quiet breath and held it as he captured Watanuki's hand as it swung by. But Watanuki didn't protest, just tentatively wove his fingers between Doumeki's and shyly glanced away.

Afternoon was giving way to evening, and Doumeki's mouth curved into a small smile. _Alright._ He willed each block to stretch a little further, so he could enjoy it longer. _Alright._

_I've waited all my life to cross this line  
To the only thing that's true_

Watanuki glanced down at their hands, fitted smoothly together. _Well, maybe it's not trouble after all._ He'd never have guessed it felt so good to be wanted. _Loved?_ The combined idea of love and Doumeki was terrifying. But still, this was wonderful; walking down the street with him, even though he'd almost lost their lunches and almost caused Doumeki to blow the meet. Doumeki still wanted him, and Watanuki knew his whole day would have been terrible if Doumeki hadn't been a part of it.

So maybe the best part of his day was when he was with Doumeki. So maybe he only felt at ease when Doumeki was around. So maybe it would be okay to be honest. So maybe he could show Doumeki that he could be brave, too, because even through all the things he'd done for Watanuki Doumeki had never said anything aloud. So maybe now it was Watanuki's turn.

_So I will not hide, it's time to try  
Anything to be with you_

Doumeki paused outside the shop gate. He untangled his hand to dig through his bag and pulled out the end of his final arrow, the shaft broken cleanly, to hand it to Watanuki. "Keep it," he told him, "You need all the luck you can get." He smiled, hoping it didn't sound harsh.

But Watanuki _laughed_ and Doumeki thought he'd achieved nirvana. He'd screw up every archery meet for the rest of his school career if it meant listening to hear Watanuki laugh like that.

Watanuki fingered the fletching on the arrow, dropping his eyes as he nervously twirled it between fingertips. "Doumeki," He said, and Doumeki wondered why it sounded so awkward. "I only have to make Yuuko dinner tonight and I was wondering if you'd come over after I got home." He said it all in a rush, like if it didn't come out fast enough the words would get snatched out of the air between them. "I'll… make you dinner."

Doumeki could hear his pulse in his ears. A night of microwave noodles compared with Watanuki, homemade food, and hopefully more of that laughter? _We can laugh. We're friends._ Doumeki stared at Watanuki's mismatched eyes again. _Maybe more than that?_ They'd just walked home hand–in–hand. _Yes_, Doumeki thought, and then said it aloud. "Yes."

_All my life I've waited  
This is true_

Watanuki was smiling like an idiot. He seemed to be doing that more and more lately, not that he minded. He gave Doumeki a quick nod and a wave before darting in the gate. Watanuki could feel Doumeki's eyes, as intense as always, on his back until he was out of sight. It was all he could do to not sigh and slide down the inside of the door like a teenaged girl. _Look what he's reduced you to,_ he scolded himself, but could summon no venom for the thought.

"Watanuki!" Yuuko sang from the other room. "Sake, quick, before I starve!"

"You're going to starve if that's all you want!" Watanuki bellowed back, but he was unable to keep the smile off his face. Yuuko appeared, revealing kimono and all, in the doorway.

"Oh?" She smirked. "Aren't we just pleased with ourselves?"

Watanuki tried not to blush as he pushed past her to grab his apron. "What do you want for dinner? You can have leftover yakisoba with your sake but you'll need something else…" He escaped into the kitchen to open the refrigerator door. He surveyed its contents and the meals that could come of them.

"What's the hurry, Wa–ta–nuki?" Yuuko teased, mischief in her eyes. "Got a hot date after work?"

Maru and Moro began chanting, "Hot date! Hot date!" from behind Yuuko as the door slid shut just in time to avoid the small sack of flour that collided with it. Watanuki turned back to the stove, his stomach in knots and a million thoughts flying through his head. _Just concentrate on not chopping your fingers off._ And he still kept one eye on the clock, counting down the minutes.

_I know when I go  
I'll be on my way to you  
The way that's true_

If Doumeki thought his capability for concentration was weak before, it was completely shot now. He figured he'd pace the temple for an hour or so before showing up at Watanuki's. With the incoherent jumble his mind had become, it was the only plan he had. He was getting two Watanuki–made meals; he'd gotten two smiles and a _laugh_ out of Watanuki; so what if he may never be able to hit another bull's–eye ever again? He tried to tell himself to be cautious, but there was no room for it. He was too busy impatiently waiting until he could be with Watanuki again.

He walked home with an unmistakable bounce to his step.

_All my life I've waited  
This is true_

(Because love will not be approached with anything other than sheer abandon.)


	7. For What It's Worth

Lyrics are from Sister Hazel's Shame on Me.

For icedragonchilde, because it's her fault I added _yet another_ chapter to this thing. Love ya, darling.

**For What It's Worth**

Watanuki wouldn't be back yet, Doumeki knew. It was one of his longer nights at Yuuko's – a Friday – and he'd be tired when he got home. Doumeki had been over for dinner for three nights in a row; he wasn't sure if he should show up for a fourth. Watanuki's fridge was almost empty, his voice had begun to hoarsen from the near–constant yelling, and the last thing he'd want after dealing with Yuuko all day was to deal with Doumeki all night. So he knew it would be best if he let Watanuki have the night to himself for once.

Not to say the past three nights had been unpleasant. Quite the contrary. There'd been four more smiles and two more laughs – but Doumeki hadn't been keeping track, at all. There was that jittery, prolonged goodbye at the door last night. Watanuki had fidgeted with his glasses and then repeatedly turned the deadbolt on the open door – _click_ locked _click_ unlocked – while Doumeki stood in the hallway with his hands in his pockets so Watanuki couldn't see how his palms were sweating. And if he went back again tonight, something similar would undoubtedly happen again. Maybe the inches would grow smaller, and maybe Watanuki would look him in the eye as they tried to say goodbye. Maybe Doumeki would work up the courage to close the gap between them. And maybe then, they'd stay up late, too late, and then Doumeki would stumble home in the early morning hours or maybe not at all. Doumeki lay back on his futon, folding his hands behind his head. He let his mind fill with the daydream.

Until there was a soft knock on the door. He heard it slide back a few inches, and he pictured the sliver of his anxious mother's face that would be showing. "Shizuka…? Will you be home for dinner tonight?"

Doumeki opened his eyes but didn't look at his mother. His father had come home from another business trip that afternoon and, if for no other reason, he didn't want to sit and listen to how rewarding the business world was from across the dinner table. Ever since Doumeki had hit high school, nearly every aspect of the temple was run by no one but himself – his father had made it clear he wanted nothing to with it. "Practically as worthless as his grandfather," Doumeki had overheard his father say once. The situation suited the elder Doumeki just fine, it seemed, because he was always gone for weeks at a time.

Instead of answering his mother, Doumeki asked a question of his own. "How's grandmother tonight?"

His mother hesitated. Her husband's mother's failing health was not an openly discussed topic. "Already asleep for the night."

Well, that settled it. Tired, cranky Watanuki was always better than an evening with his father and without his grandmother – the only other person that appreciated Haruka's memory – "No."

_It's over, and I'm overwhelmed  
I'm emptied out like a dusty shelf_

It was falling dark when Watanuki reached his apartment building. He should've gone grocery shopping on the way home, since his fridge had not been stocked to feed Doumeki's bottomless stomach, but he was absolutely drained from his day at Yuuko's; another day spent airing out her black hole of a treasure room. It was unlikely Doumeki would be over tonight anyway; Watanuki had to admit he was disappointed that Doumeki hadn't been waiting for him at the gate.

Watanuki pulled out his key to the building, only to discover it was unlocked. None of his neighbors were careless like that, much less in the later hours, so he crept up the steps carefully, keeping an eye out for the telltale inky smoke. He didn't smell the nauseating stench normally associated with ill–intentioned spirits. But then again, he hadn't felt a thing with the spirit woman or the four–headed hellhound, so relying on smoke and smell seemed to be a moot idea.

He peeked around the corner to check if there was anything suspicious – and instead saw Doumeki sitting against his door, three bulging bags stamped with the local grocer's logo lined up next to him. Watanuki's heart did a backflip into his throat, but he stayed where he was. Restoring his stock of groceries was sweet – okay, really _really_ sweet – but the bags had to be filled with Doumeki's favorite foods instead of ones Watanuki could actually use.

_Oh well_, Watanuki thought as he unconsciously smoothed out his jacket. _It's the thought that counts_. He rounded the corner, putting his hands on his hips, and tried to put a chastising edge to his voice. "Did one of my neighbors let you in?" Doumeki gave a slow nod as Watanuki bent to the bags. "Figures. Don't think I'm going to give you a key or anything." He reached a hand into the closest bag, rummaging though it. "So what kind of junk food did you bring over now?" Pulling out a squat plastic tub, he was dumbfounded. "Oh. How's you know I was almost out of miso? That's an expensive brand, too…" He found a tin canister. "I was almost out of tea, too." _Way to prove me wrong, Shizuka._ And he froze, staring at Doumeki's slightly arched eyebrow. He'd just thought of him as Shizuka. He dropped the tea back toward the general vicinity of the bags, holding out a hand to hoist Doumeki to his feet. "Alright, I'll make you dinner, even though I'm _exhausted_ from Yuuko's slavery." Watanuki turned the key in the lock as Doumeki gathered up the bags.

He was never going to understand Doumeki's thought processes. _Never_.

_You buried me and I'm covered in shame  
I'm here but you look right through me_

Watanuki's harping was music to Doumeki's ears. He followed Watanuki inside and though the archway to the kitchen. As Watanuki began to pull out pots and pans, Doumeki put away the food. He'd learned where everything went in this kitchen, according to Watanuki's neurotic organization, in a matter of three nights, and the apartment had lost its awkward feeling. It was suspiciously beginning to feel more natural than the temple, but Doumeki assumed that was simply because it contained Watanuki.

Despite being a bit worn around the edges, Watanuki looked happy; it made warmth spread through Doumeki. Who would've known – beside Yuuko, anyway – that what had started as a rivalry would become a friendship that solved their loneliness? Doumeki had never felt anything as natural or comfortable as sharing this tiny kitchen with Watanuki.

He turned to open a cupboard right as Watanuki straightened from retrieving a strainer, and Doumeki found himself staring into Watanuki's mismatched eyes. Watanuki narrowed his eyes as he reached around Doumeki to put the strainer in the sink. "You haven't said a word since you got here." He shoved a pot into Doumeki's hands. "Start boiling two–and–a–half cups of water while I cut the meat." Doumeki leaned against the sink and ran water into the pot from the tap; Watanuki rolled his eyes, but probably only because it was too late to yell. "No, idiot, if you don't measure it the sauce will come out wrong." Watanuki brushed Doumeki's hands away so he stood back, watching Watanuki's face in the window over the sink. His eyebrows were furrowed together, and Doumeki could sense the storm brewing under his skin – Typhoon Watanuki.

And yet, all Doumeki could think was that Watanuki was jaw–droppingly adorable when he was angry, and that if that dissonance was directed at any other creature, he'd have to kill something _again_. But Watanuki put the pot down with a _clang_ and crossed his arms, turning to face Doumeki. "Did I do something wrong?" The look in his eyes was bordering on wild, and Doumeki didn't know how to take that – if he wasn't sure it would land him an elbow in the face, Doumeki would probably already have him pressed against the cabinet.

_So clever, but I tripped somehow  
I never guessed you could knock me down_

Slight widening of the eyes. Twitch of the mouth. One fist clenched and then relaxed again. Watanuki knew that was as close to surprise as Doumeki got. "Okay, then what is it?" Watanuki leaned forward, almost nose–to–nose with Doumeki, who had gotten very stiff. "Because Lord knows you're not the talkative type, but this is ridiculous. You've been here for twenty minutes and not even a peep. Do you expect me to read your mind or something?" Watanuki glowered. "Because it's weird enough that monsters like to try to eat me and you shoot ki–arrows and we have to share an eye and I think reading each other's minds would be just a _little_ too much, even for us." Watanuki procured a wooden spoon from somewhere and waved it threatening in Doumeki's direction, hoping that maybe it would dissolve the strange air that hung between them. "At least grunt or something! If I have to hear nothing but my own voice for the rest of the night, Doumeki Shizuka, I will never make you inari sushi again!" He spun back toward the stove, busying himself with utensils, before turning back again. He'd say it all if he was going to say anything at all, especially with Doumeki. Because Doumeki deserved to hear _everything_. "Just standing there, staring at me! I swear, you drive me crazy!" _In more than one way_, his inner voice quipped, but Watanuki steadfastly ignored it. _It is not sexual tension, damn it!_ He wanted to smack Doumeki just so he'd stop gazing at him like he was Christmas morning.

_I am just a bit undone  
Displaced and I'm burned like fire_

Watanuki crossed his arms and glared; Doumeki stood back and took him in: school uniform open at the throat, that lock of hair in one eye, bare foot tapping against the floor in self–produced frustration. Doumeki wanted to stare at him all night, but the part of him that only responded to Watanuki – the part that got sarcastic and out–of–control and fiercely protective – made him open his mouth and shoot out, "What, crazier than you already are?"

Watanuki flushed all the way up from his collar; god, Doumeki would die happy if the rest of his nights were like this. He couldn't help grinning, and then he started to laugh. Watanuki dropped the spoon he was holding. "Oh, funny, is it?" But he chuckled, and soon, they were raising a ruckus. Doumeki slid to the floor, clutching his stomach. _Haven't laughed like this in forever._ He looked up at Watanuki – who was leaning against the counter trying desperately to remain perturbed but failing miserably – and Doumeki enjoyed seeing Watanuki laugh so much it made him ache. _Is this love?_ The thought made him sober up fast. _It's Watanuki. Do I even know how to love?_ Oh, god, what if he screwed this up? What if he couldn't make Watanuki laugh anymore? He'd never forgive himself.

Doumeki shook himself and got to his feet. He smiled at Watanuki, who was gasping for breath. _I've come this far_. And it wasn't like anything he'd dealt with before. But it was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and Doumeki would see it through.

_Well, I didn't get it  
I never wanted to_

"You know," Doumeki said after the plates were cleared and they were settled among the cushions in Watanuki's tiny sitting room, "I thought you'd be mad at me for showing up tonight."

Watanuki lifted his face from the piles of photos he had spread across the table. "You were worried?" Doumeki nodded, sitting up to help himself to another cookie. Watanuki glanced down at the tabletop, a faint blush hitting his cheeks. _I can't believe I'm going to say this_. "I… like it when you're here. Why would you worry?"

"You normally get fussy after work at Yuuko's."

Huh, well. Watanuki knew his behavior was erratic, but stony Doumeki predicting is moods? He had been in a fairly foul mood when he'd left work – especially after Doumeki hadn't been at the gate – but the groceries had been so _sweet_ that even making dinner had been a pleasant affair. And he'd never heard Doumeki laugh like that; the stoic boy been lost in it, and Watanuki got the feeling he didn't get lost in much. "So why'd you come over, then?"

Doumeki gazed at the wall somewhere past Watanuki's ear. "My father's home for a few days."

Watanuki set down the picture in his hand. Doumeki being forthcoming – it was enough to make the alarm bells in Watanuki's mind clang. "Do you not get along?" Because he'd never mentioned his father before, except for the once when he told Yuuko he didn't have the ability to exorcize spirits.

Doumeki snorted. "I'm hardly even alive to him."

A light flared somewhere in Watanuki's brain. He'd been able to identify with the pain of losing loved ones, but to have someone so important revile his very existence? "Is it… because of Haruka–san?"

"Too much like my grandfather, yeah." Doumeki leaned one arm on the table. "Chasing after things that don't exist, wasting our lives serving the dead. He hasn't been to an archery meet since middle school." The last came out bitter; Watanuki stood and went around the table to sit next to him. Watanuki knew he had a soft spot for the lonely, he just hadn't realized that it was definitely what had thrown the two of them together in the first place.

But what could he say? He wasn't sure why Doumeki was suddenly telling him this. He certainly didn't want sympathy; that just wasn't like Doumeki. It was the only way Doumeki could think to show him where they stood – Watanuki was smart enough to realize that, all self–doubt aside, the bond they shared had been cemented in four nights.

Watanuki ached for Doumeki, but knowing he trusted him enough to tell him things he obviously hadn't said to anyone else… It made him feel elated as well. He just wanted to make it all go away for Doumeki, for Shizuka, just like he'd done for Watanuki.

And yet Watanuki still wasn't sure if Doumeki felt the same.

_My self-destructive attitude said  
What did you want?  
And why did you want it at all?_

"You're the only person I've ever told that to," Doumeki affirmed, giving Watanuki a faint smile. But the bespectacled boy sat gazing at him, a conflicted expression marring his features. Doumeki was finally getting Watanuki's undivided attention and it made him feel guilty because his purpose was to make sure Watanuki was safe and smiling. "Thank you for dinner."

"Thank you for the groceries." The line of Watanuki's brow eased and he smiled wide all the way up to his eyes; _Ah, that's what I need_. Even with the resentment he felt for his father, even the pain of losing his grandfather – it had all led him to Watanuki, so for Doumeki it was alright. The thought made him feel lighter, and the smile that used to feel so awkward was coming naturally.

The silence stretched as they smiled at each other. Normally, Doumeki would be leaving for home now, to give Watanuki time for homework and whatever else. But it was Friday, Doumeki didn't want to go home, and he'd decided to be selfish and impose himself on Watanuki. So Doumeki stood, holding out a hand. The briefest look of disappointment flashed across Watanuki's face as he clasped it, rising to his feet. But Doumeki smiled, heading toward the kitchen. "I'll help you with the dishes for once."

"It's about time!" Watanuki snapped, but didn't pull his hand away, letting Doumeki tug him into the kitchen. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get some of these pans clean? Of course not. Not only do you have the most _complicated_ taste, you've probably never washed a plate in your life. You'll probably break half of mine, too."

_Complicated taste, eh_, Doumeki couldn't help laughing at Watanuki's ranting, the days of plugging his ears long gone. _He's got no idea_. Watanuki ran soap into the sink and proceeded to show Doumeki which pots to scrub, which to soak, the proper ratio of hot water, cold water, and dish–soap, and the best way to stack them to dry.

It ended with two broken plates, water on the floor, and soap suds all over their faces – but they were on the floor laughing their heads off again, and Doumeki was pretty certain that it was the best time Watanuki ever had washing dishes.

_But you never went away_

Hell, it was Friday. Teenaged boys hung out late on weekends, although most probably didn't hold hands occasionally or flirt over a sinkful of dinner dishes. Of course, most boys would just stay over instead of staying out late, but thoughts of Doumeki staying the night when Watanuki only had the one futon…

"Are you blushing?" Doumeki asked. He'd been methodically teaching Watanuki mahjongg, and had been thoughtfully shuffling through his tiles.

Watanuki quickly faked a yawn to cover it up, but it didn't take much to turn it real. He took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He hadn't stayed up this late since… "The meteor shower."

Doumeki quirked an eyebrow; Watanuki tried to backtrack. "Just thinking. Haven't been up this late since the meteor shower."

Doumeki had a question in his eyes. "Watanuki," He started, "Should I go home now? You're tired."

_That wasn't the question you were going to ask_. "The game..?" Watanuki waved a hand at the table.

Doumeki glanced at the tiles in his hand before setting them down. "It can wait."

"Tomorrow, then?" Watanuki suppressed another yawn.

"Tomorrow," Doumeki said with such certainty that it made Watanuki twist inside. _Why not tonight?_ Doumeki smiled, that same slow, creeping smile Watanuki had seen before, the last time he'd been up so late with Doumeki. _Why not tonight, Shizuka?_ He wanted to ask, but he was afraid that it was still too soon, that he didn't understand his own feelings.

_Just hear me out, for what it's worth  
You still rip my breath away_

Doumeki half–expected Watanuki to grow skittish over the short conversation about his father, but he realized he'd underestimated Watanuki's determination. He'd gotten that look in his eye – the one Doumeki saw the most around Kohane, especially when her mother was mentioned. It was fierce and it burned from the very root of Watanuki's soul, and Doumeki had in no way foreseen that reaction. He'd thought Watanuki would've been frightened off, in all honesty.

But with the way Watanuki was lingering by the door as Doumeki put on his shoes – he was definitely trying to cover up how tired he actually was. Doumeki felt that pang of guilt again; he hated it when Watanuki worried because then he plunged headfirst into trouble without _thinking_ and Doumeki had long ago stopped protecting his lunch–ticket and started securing Watanuki for the sake of his own sanity. It was selfish, but wasn't Watanuki guilty of that, too?

_Caught in a tug–of–war_. Doumeki straightened, his laces tied, as Watanuki bit back a yawn again. He'd left his glasses off, his shirt and hair were rumpled, and he very obviously didn't want Doumeki to leave. Doumeki clenched a fist. _Don't think about it too much or things will get dangerous very quickly again_. Doumeki began to wonder of he needed to revise his definition of "dangerous".

"I'll be done at Yuuko's around four."

Doumeki nodded, not reaching for the door. "I'll meet you there." Watanuki moved a little closer, just inches away, and smiled.

"Thank you." That look, it gave away everything. Doumeki could feel his palms sweating again; he was definitely the unprepared one. Or at least he hoped. He wanted to feel Watanuki's forehead against his collarbone again; he wanted to squeeze his hands and have him squeeze back; he wanted to make sure Watanuki was safe and happy and warm inside the curve of his arm at night. Watanuki was _so close_, but Doumeki was too scared to touch him – too afraid of what such actions could mean. _Still a coward_, Doumeki thought, and reached for the door handle.

_Shame on me, shame on me  
It's bittersweet, but I'm so sorry_

"Doumeki?" _Don't leave yet._ Doumeki stopped, hand on the knob, but he didn't turn so Watanuki tried again. _Don't walk away from me wounded, please, please don't._ "Shizuka?"

That garnered a reaction. Doumeki's face was unfathomable again, something Watanuki was beginning to realize was a very effective cover–up for whatever was going on underneath. _Impassive, my ass, I've got you pegged._ Watanuki reached out a hand, level with Doumeki because of the sunken entryway. _I think_. Should he say he was sorry about his father? He was pretty certain it was wasted with Doumeki. _Is it a bigger hurt than Haruka–san? At least he taught with love, not resentment_. "I'll teach you how to cook tomorrow, eh?"

Doumeki grasped Watanuki's hand and gave it a brief squeeze, a wondrous look replacing the previous one. Doumeki's gaze quit darting and landed on Watanuki's – _those eyes, don't ever let them change, they're my anchor_ – and Watanuki was inexplicably certain that he could tell Doumeki to stay the night and get away with it. But Doumeki was still clutching the doorknob like it was a lifeline. Watanuki was struck by a moment of panic. _Oh god, I'm not ready for this, we're not ready for any of this_.

"It's a…" Doumeki's voice hitched, "A plan."

_Yes, it is,_ Watanuki thought. When was the last time Doumeki had heard his first name spoken with affection? When was the last time Watanuki had heard his first name spoken like that, besides Kohane? That thought hurt and Watanuki looked at Doumeki's still form and wondered, _How come I never realize how strong he is?_ He dropped his hand; Doumeki turned the doorknob. "Good night." _Shizuka. I swear we'll be okay, one day soon._

Doumeki gave that quiet smile again, the one that caused fine cracks to web something deep inside Watanuki. "Good night." The door clicked shut behind him.

_Tomorrow,_ Watanuki told himself. Once he got it in his mind to do something for someone, Watanuki had the tenacity of a pit bull. And when it came to Doumeki, well, Watanuki was discovering new depths about himself every day he spent with the archer–exorcist. _I'm worth being saved, Shizuka._ Watanuki finally took the step forward the throw the deadbolt. _But so are you._

And he really, really wanted to hear how his name would sound coming from Doumeki's mouth.

_Tomorrow._ So Watanuki cleaned up around the mahjongg tiles and went to bed, because it would make the next the day come faster.

_It took so long but you believed  
(I'm so sorry, it took so long)_

Things were going to move tomorrow, Doumeki determined. He'd harbor up that courage he had in himself somewhere, and at least try to make the daydream come true. It'd be easier if Watanuki was hissing and dirty and telling him to stop worrying about him, _damn it_, but that was most likely because that was what Doumeki was used to. _I can shoot spirits and give up eyes and blood and all manner of other things, but…_ Watanuki with his soft eyes and warm hands, saying his name so sure – it made something curl up in the pit of his stomach, equal parts afraid and thrilled.

Doumeki didn't want to go home. He wanted to solve this. It had begun as a controlled fall and now he was an uncertain mess and if there was anything Doumeki hated in the world, it was not knowing where he stood or _why_. All he'd wanted that night of the meteor shower was a smile, and look where that left him: craving more each passing day. And god, it scared him. He'd gotten away with himself and he needed to see Watanuki as much as possible – he needed him alive, and smiling, and now laughing – he needed Watanuki to be happy and he wanted it to be because of him. The purpose had kept building on while he focused on keeping Watanuki protected and then he'd almost _lost_ him, and thinking of that still made his breath catch.

His life had become unarguably intertwined with Watanuki's, so close that he couldn't tell where his strength stopped and where Watanuki's began; they were wound together and he'd hadn't even kissed him and it felt _so wrong_. But tomorrow things were going to _move_ and then the freefall would end, and Doumeki would be back on solid ground again as long as he could hear his name spoken by Watanuki.

Doumeki paced the park in the darkness, knowing he'd be unable to sleep if he returned to the temple. He sat on the grass where he'd watched the meteor shower; he paused on the sidewalk where Watanuki had stumbled and he'd caught him, the only reliable things they'd known for so long; he stared at the bench and remembered the spirit–woman and the anger that had rippled under his skin during their last conversation there; he searched the grooves in the concrete for traces of his own blood the hellhound had drawn, his heart thudding knowing that Watanuki had been rolling out his futon at that moment.

And then he saw the stars starting to fade from a second–story window three blocks away in one eye, and Doumeki realized that tomorrow was _today_ and his feet hit the path back to Watanuki.

_Shame on me, shame on me  
'cause you're every question's answer  
shame on me_

(Because love forces us to grow.)_  
_


	8. Where We Begin

Lyrics are from Let Love in by Goo Goo Dolls.

Just a reminder: I love to hear song requests! And if you'd like to hear the song, there's a download link on my LJ post.

I'd also like to apologize for the length of time this chapter took to post. I've been suffering through 90+ heat and my laptop kept overheating. Sorry!

**Where We Begin**

Watanuki dreamed that Haruka–san sat on the steps to the temple and smoked his cigarette, looking at Watanuki as he approached through eyes that were two shades too dark to make his heart race. Watanuki sat next to Haruka and looped his arms around his knees, waiting, because tonight of all nights he had no idea what to say to Doumeki's – _Shizuka's_ – grandfather.

"It will be hard, Kimihiro–kun," Haruka finally told Watanuki on an exhale, smoke ringing the air around his shoulders. "Saving Shizuka. He's very stubborn."

Watanuki gripped his knees. "But so am I." He shook his head, hair batting against his cheeks. "I can't let him be so lonely. I… I need him to be happy." _And laugh. We need each other to laugh._ He recalled the soap in Doumeki's short bangs, the see–through patch on his white t–shirt where one of Watanuki's splashes had landed. _God, I…_ "I need him, Haruka–san."

Haruka took a long drag as if he hadn't heard Watanuki's voice crack. "He can't run from you." He turned to look Watanuki full in the face, eyes grave. "You're the only thing he can't hide from." Watanuki nodded, overwhelmed by all the things running through his mind. Yuuko's words echoed again: _It is up to you to walk or wander._ His mind always ran free in these dream–states, and there was one thing throbbing at the center of it tonight. _Shizuka, Shizuka, Shizuka._ "But," Haruka continued, "Once you begin, you can't pull away. It would break him, and he wouldn't recover." Those eyes were leveled at him again. "Do you trust yourself enough?"

_I will save him._ Watanuki nodded, believing in Haruka's guidance and his own pulsing ache.

Haruka smiled and Watanuki recognized it as the same one that kept slipping through the chinks in Doumeki's armor. "Time for you to discover more of your hitsuzen, then," Haruka said.

Watanuki woke up with his heart pounding; he threw off his blankets and strode to the bathroom, realizing he'd only been asleep an hour. He winced as he turned on the light and twisted the knob for cold water over the sink, splashing his too–hot face. _Doumeki Shizuka, I need you._ God, it was a relief to admit it. Watanuki leaned on the sink, knowing Haruka was right: he was in it for the long run or he wasn't in it at all.

Then he thought about Doumeki's seldom–seen grin, Doumeki's rolling laugh, Doumeki's warm hand in his. The things he had all to himself, the things no one had ever experienced with Doumeki Shizuka before. Watanuki went to turn off the tap and discovered his hands were shaking. He was scared, so scared, but it didn't seem to matter. He needed Doumeki; it was fact. And he wasn't going to let Doumeki suffer in loneliness.

Watanuki paced across his bedroom to the window, figuring it was early enough to see the sunrise. He definitely wasn't going back to sleep, despite the scant hour he'd achieved. _It will be hard. Am I prepared for that?_ He hated his own uncertainty. _Do I trust myself enough?_ The stars began to blink out, the horizon started to glow, and Watanuki's eyes caught movement.

Doumeki was marching across the courtyard, his face roiling somewhere between pissed and determined. _Am I dreaming again?_ His heart began to pound as he ran to unlock the door to the apartment building before Doumeki smashed through it.

It was tomorrow, Watanuki realized, and it was the day to save Shizuka.

_You wait, wanting this world to let you in  
And you stand there, a frozen light in dark and empty streets_

He needed to be rational. Breaking down the door would get him arrested. _Screw rationality,_ his mind shouted, _get to Watanuki!_ Doumeki knew if he slowed down, his courage would slip and he'd retreat again. Although he wasn't sure what he was going to do once he got to Watanuki. If Watanuki was even awake. _He's awake, dumbass,_ the voice just wouldn't shut up, _He's waiting for you._

For some reason, Doumeki didn't doubt that at all. Watanuki was standing at his window, and something was bothering him enough that Doumeki could see through that eye – and if something was bothering him, well, it was reason enough to check up on Watanuki. Besides, Watanuki had flirted, hadn't wanted Doumeki to leave; Doumeki knew that he had been the coward. He was done with that. He wanted to see Watanuki every day; he wanted to be next to him, to eat his meals with him; he wanted Watanuki to glow up at him again. _Kimihiro,_ he thought so fiercely he knew he was completely out of control.

Doumeki didn't give a damn; he had a door to break.

But the door opened as soon as he reached it and Watanuki stood there with no glasses and an unbuttoned shirt. He lifted a hand at Doumeki as he halted right in front of the door. "Shizuka?" Watanuki said, his voice low. "Did you forget something?"

Something deep inside Doumeki snapped and he pushed the door aside, closing the space between them in two long strides.

_And you smile, hiding behind a God–given face  
But I know you're so much more  
Everything they ignore is all that I need to believe_

Doumeki's hands planted on either side of Watanuki, trapping him against the wall next to the door. His golden eyes were dark from the lack of light, thin rings surrounding too–wide pupils; there was a shadow covering his face and Watanuki held his breath, startled by the depth of him. Doumeki was so intense that the air around him was spitting and hissing with fire.

Watanuki straightened bit by bit, bringing his face inches from Doumeki's. _If you do this, it's for real._ "Did you forget something?" He repeated slowly, trying to regain his breath.

Doumeki's face was carved from stone. "Yes," He responded, equally slowly. "I did." Watanuki could feel his breath puff against his cheeks, and they locked eyes, noses almost touching. Doumeki's eyes crackled and burned against his face and Watanuki lifted his chin to find air – anything to grasp onto. _He's so close, so close I could…_ Did he dare? He'd expire in the heat if it kept up.

Doumeki closed his eyes, leaning down just enough that their foreheads brushed. "Kimihiro, can I…?" Watanuki nodded to feel contact again, making their noses rub just a little, amazed by how such a simple touch could make his vision swim. _So close._ He nudged Doumeki's nose again, making the other boy open his eyes, and Watanuki's panic subsided as Doumeki leaned in the last half–inch and pressed his mouth to Watanuki's.

A hum of lightning shot to Watanuki's toes and back up again; Doumeki's mouth was so warm against his closed lips – skin to skin – effortless but full of things Watanuki had never known before. He was painfully conscious of his nose pressing against the side of Doumeki's, of the heat radiating between their cheeks; it was simple yet so amazing to want and be wanted back that Watanuki didn't know how he had gone without it.

Doumeki dropped his right hand from the wall and slid it down Watanuki's arm until he caught his fingers, twining them together. Watanuki pressed harder against Doumeki's mouth until he could feel the indent of his teeth and Doumeki pushed back, his body rigid as rock but vibrating with a minute energy that Watanuki could feel all the way to his spine. Doumeki, Watanuki realized, was the only person he'd trusted in a long time, and as he reveled in Doumeki's warmth he thought, _how could I ever have doubted you?_ Doumeki was the one piece of the puzzle that gave the rest of it significance; the phantom picture that was so blindingly clear that Watanuki wondered how he could've missed it before.

_And you're the only one I ever believed in  
The answer that could never be found  
The moment you decided to let love in_

Doumeki pulled away gently because, despite every nerve ending in his body cracking to life, there was a trill of dread settling in the base of his skull that was telling him to give Watanuki the chance to clock him across the face. But Watanuki just stared up at him, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, his fingers tight across the back of Doumeki's hand. He looked surprised and pleased, not the sputtering mess Doumeki expected him to be.

So Doumeki bent down again, the adrenaline pounding in his veins, but he was glad of it for once. Watanuki's skin smelled so good and there was nothing compared to the rush – fear wasn't the reason for it this time, thank god – and Watanuki met him halfway, as eager as Doumeki. The edge of Watanuki's lower lip slipped against his and Doumeki caught it, pressing down into Watanuki as the kiss deepened; a real _kiss_ this time. Their mouths worked against each other and their teeth slid together, making something feral inside Doumeki claw at his stomach. The knot that had been waiting there ever since the first time he'd held Watanuki's hands broke apart and surged, infiltrating his blood so thoroughly that Doumeki knew he'd never experience another thought that wasn't interwoven with Watanuki.

But then Watanuki was pulling away, putting distance between them by pushing his free hand against Doumeki's chest. "Wait, wait," He panted against Doumeki's mouth, and the trill of fear exploded from its hiding place and the hallway became very, very cold.

Doumeki pushed off the wall, intent on Watanuki's face. His eyes were wild again, darting past Doumeki's face and back. _Heaven help me._ He'd just ruined everything. _But it might've been worth it._

"I… I don't think," Watanuki stuttered, swallowing hard as Doumeki's heart sank, "This doesn't make sense."

What was there to make sense of? He was pretty sure Watanuki had enjoyed that, too. "What?"

"We can't do this, we're not even friends," Watanuki said.

Doumeki felt anger begin to simmer. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"We're rivals," Watanuki stated, brandishing his last defense.

"Maybe to you, we are," Doumeki told him as his anger ebbed, replaced by annoyance.

Watanuki blinked up at him as Doumeki bent again, determined to pick up where he left off, but Watanuki said, "Wait, wait!" and slid down the wall and away from him. Doumeki clenched his fist at his side as Watanuki tugged on his hand, pulling him toward the stairs. "Can we talk about this in privacy?" Watanuki said, a pleading edge to his voice, and Doumeki nodded and followed him up to his apartment, watching Watanuki's profile in the light that was spilled from the open doorway. He made his way to the sitting room as Watanuki went to make tea, and as Doumeki sat down he thought, _I'm going to lose him and it's my fault._ It scared him so badly he had to close his eyes against the pain, but he remembered Watanuki's fingers clenched against his. _I will not let this fall apart._ Light poured in through the window, cutting streaks across the undisturbed mahjongg tiles, and Doumeki listened to the kettle whistle and remembered resolution, caught in a chaotic world for too long.

_Now I'm banging on the door of an angel  
The end of fear is where we begin  
The moment we decided to let love in_

Watanuki served Doumeki tea and tried to be rational: kissing Doumeki was fantastic, but it would change things and he wasn't sure if it was for the best. They wouldn't be able to go back. _You can't go back anyway, dummy,_ he thought as he recalled Haruka's advice. _It's done and over with, so deal with it._

Alright, so he needed a plan, and he needed to come up with it quick. Watanuki took a deep breath and sat down next to Doumeki, whose face had gone indecipherable. _Just try not to panic again._

"Right. Well…" Of course, Doumeki had to be staring at him like the world was about to end and it was all Watanuki's fault. The words stopped halfway out Watanuki's throat. _He looks like I'm about to crush everything he's ever worked for._ Oh, god, what if he was? Watanuki did a quick review of the past ten minutes and realized that he would've come to the same conclusions Doumeki apparently had. _Time for a new approach, dumbass. Maybe you should just kiss him again._ "Are you sure this is what you want?" Watanuki glued his eyes to his teacup because he was afraid of the answer; there had been Doumeki's death–grip on the door the night – _this morning_ – before. Doumeki was so still Watanuki couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"I want you." The ceramic cup scraped against the table as Doumeki tightened his grip. "I want you safe, I want you smiling, I want you in my life." Watanuki's stomach tightened so quickly it almost hurt. _Does he really mean that?_ Watanuki raised his gaze only to be locked to Doumeki's serious eyes. "I wasn't lying when I said that. You do the needing, I'll do the wanting – I just want you," He hesitated, eyes flickering away for just a second, "Just you, Kimihiro." He finished quietly.

Watanuki's heart jumped to his throat, rediscovered gravity, and dove right back to the pit of his stomach. _What if he discovers it's not enough? What if he regrets this later?_ Doumeki seemed so certain but Watanuki knew better; Doumeki never had a relationship like this before, neither of them had – what if they discovered it was a passing infatuation, fueled only by the bizarre edge it seemed to have? Reality would disintegrate that in a heartbeat. Watanuki remembered his parent's marriage well enough; it had not been based off midnight kisses and supernatural rescues. He looked at Doumeki and thought, _I can love you, but there's something better for you than shielding me for the rest of my life, no matter what you say. I'll be lonely again, but at least you'll be better off. It'll be worth it, right?_

_I can love you._ "Are you sure, Shizuka?" The name still felt unfamiliar in his mouth; it rolled against his tongue like foreign candy, sweet and unexpected. But Watanuki knew he could get used to it, could savor it over and over again.

"I'm sure," Doumeki said, reaching a hand out. "Do you trust me?"

Watanuki slid his palm into Doumeki's – _always so warm_ – and nodded. "I do." _That's one thing I'm sure of._

Doumeki's face softened in his relief, and the smile that followed washed away all of Watanuki's doubts. He squeezed Watanuki's hand and leaned toward him, tentatively kissing him for a third blissful time. _This is right,_ Watanuki affirmed, and kissed Doumeki back.

_I wish, wishing for you to find your way  
And I'll hold on for all you need  
It's all we need to say_

Watanuki didn't pull away, thank god. The relief made Doumeki dizzy, but that was probably from the kissing, too. And from hearing his name spoken like that again, so familiar and affectionate. Doumeki slid his free hand up Watanuki's neck as Watanuki kissed him eagerly, turning the longer kiss into a succession of short, quicker ones that landed haphazardly on Doumeki's mouth. _Thank god, thank god, thank god,_ Doumeki thought with each one, letting Watanuki's hair slide through his fingers. Sunlight was blazing into the room, lighting up the nooks and corners and the highlights in Watanuki's hair. Watanuki's eyes squeezed shut as he gripped Doumeki's shirt at the shoulders, and Doumeki watched the light play across Watanuki's face, amazed that this was finally happening. _Why do people do this with their eyes closed? They're missing the point._

Watanuki pulled away with a sigh, resting his forehead against Doumeki's. "I could do this forever."

Which made Doumeki smile. "We do have all day."

Watanuki frowned. "Except I have to be at Yuuko's…" He trailed off as he sat back, horrified. "Yuuko!"

Doumeki's exasperation bubbled again. He'd just made Watanuki forget everything else for the moment; why did memory have to come back and spoil it? "You don't have to be there for a few hours at least."

Watanuki shook his head. "No, not that. She'll _know_." Watanuki looked so stricken by the idea that all of Doumeki's misgivings crashed back in like a tsunami. "And she'll never let me forget about it!"

Doumeki felt his head snap backwards like he'd been struck open–palmed. "Is there something wrong with remembering?" He'd just confessed how he felt without a word of reciprocation from Watanuki; he'd just made an absolute fool of himself. Something more painful than panic clogged Doumeki's throat, making his next question come out choked. "Do you want to forget already?"

Watanuki stopped mid–way through his checklist of humiliation to stare at Doumeki. "No, not like that! I don't want to forget, but Yuuko _knows_ things like this!"

"If you don't want to forget, then what's wrong with her knowing?" _Oh god, this hurts._

"She reads _yaoi_, Doumeki!" Watanuki exclaimed, missing Doumeki's wince. "She'll never let me live it down! And if she knows…" Watanuki stopped again, the horror on his face compounding further. "_Himawari._ She'll figure it out, she can read us like an open book."

_Insult to injury._ "You, maybe," Doumeki spat out, disgusted with Watanuki and his crush but mostly himself. _Get out, get out, get out._ With whatever dignity he had left, Doumeki got to his feet and headed for the door. _I can't believe this._ He'd lost control of the situation and it ended up where it always had: he was furious, terrified, and he ached so bad he could feel his tea bubbling in the back of his throat.

Watanuki just stared up at him like he was crazy, oblivious. "Where are you going?"

Doumeki paused at the door to look back at Watanuki – his hair mussed, lips bright, eyes shimmering – and thought, _alone again already._ "You can forget on your own."

_I'll take my chances while  
You take your time with this game you play_

Doumeki was livid. _Oh, god._

"Wait!" Watanuki scrambled to his feet and dove toward Doumeki, his hand on the doorknob. "Don't go!"

Doumeki paused, and Watanuki saw why he was really leaving: Doumeki was absolutely miserable. _I've hurt him already._ Watanuki swallowed the self–loathing that welled up. "That's not what I… I don't want to forget." Doumeki waited for more, hand still on the knob. "It, well, it was wonderful. The first thing that's felt right in a long time." Doumeki still didn't drop his hand. "Shizuka, I'm sorry, please, don't leave."

He let go, and Watanuki breathed a sigh of relief. But Doumeki was staring at him, so he crossed the room to stand in front of him. Of all the things he'd been through, nothing was as frightening as Doumeki giving him that cold look.

"Is this," Doumeki darted a hand between them, "what you want?"

Of course it was. "Yes!"

"Then why don't you trust in it?"

_Because nothing's ever that easy._ "Do you realize how people will react?" Watanuki swallowed, trying to force it out without his words going haywire again. "Aren't you worried how they'll label us?"

Doumeki met his eyes with a steady gaze. "If that's what it means to be with you, they can call it whatever they want."

Watanuki felt his heartbeat flutter. "Can we just… keep it between us for a while? You know, until we figure the rest out?"

Doumeki's jaw tightened, and his hand wavered toward the door again, but he clenched his fist and dropped it at his side. "You want us to be a secret?"

"No!" Watanuki protested. _Oh, god, please don't leave._ "Shizuka…" But Doumeki's eyebrows tightened even more, and Watanuki realized he may not be able to fix the mistake. As Yuuko had said before, the ball was rolling, and it wouldn't be stopped until the bottom of the hill.

_But I can't control your soul, you need to let me know  
You leaving or you gonna stay?_

Doumeki stared at Watanuki and tried to fathom the most giving yet complicated person he'd ever encountered. Watanuki was the wild card of Doumeki's life; the only thing that made him lose control and forget to be rational. Watanuki made him learn panic and desperation, but he'd also led him to discover connection and elation. And Watanuki wanted a little more time to figure this out. To Doumeki, there was nothing else to comprehend, but for all the things Watanuki had brought into his life, he could stand to be discreet for a few days. It wouldn't kill him, but losing Watanuki over a stupid point might.

"People are going to know if they don't already," Doumeki said. "But if you want to be less than obvious about it, fine."

Watanuki smiled faintly. "Thank you."

His whole life was going to be like this, conceding arguments to Watanuki to keep him happily within social boundaries, and while that particular thought didn't thrill Doumeki, the idea of spending all his time with Watanuki did. They'd lost everything that was important to them; they'd both been blinded by self–pity and lost perspectives; they were never going to get any of it back but they might be able to rebuild it anew together. _A clean state,_ Doumeki thought, _I don't want to be lonely anymore._

"Besides," Watanuki said, still trying to smile, "I don't want to be killed by a horde of envious freshmen when I'd hardly had the chance to learn the perks of this."

Whatever barrier hung between them broke, and Doumeki took half a dozen steps to get within range. He leaned in close, wanting Watanuki to not protest his touch, but stopped inches away, still afraid. "Kimihiro, is it alright…?"

Watanuki rolled his eyes. "Yes, you idiot," he said, and wrapped his arms around Doumeki's ribcage and kissed him.

_There's nothing we can do about  
The things we have to live without  
The only way to see again is let love in_

"I just…" Watanuki confessed as he pulled back. "I wouldn't be able to stand losing my best friend. You're all I can count on, Shizuka." He swallowed hard, his earlier realization coming back to smack him in the face. "I need you."

Doumeki leaned in close, noses touching. "I'll be your friend."

Watanuki tightened his arms. "Promise?"

Doumeki looked him in the eyes, and he was Shizuka, his Shizuka, solid and contrary and reliable, his hands biting into Watanuki's upper arms. "I promise, Kimihiro. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you." He closed his eyes. "Just promise me we're in this together."

"We are," Watanuki said, the idea startling. How long had it been since he'd been part of an "us"?

"Alright." Doumeki said, leaning his cheek against Watanuki's temple. Watanuki closed his eyes to feel it better. _This will work. We can do this._

"Together." Watanuki said.

"Together," Doumeki confirmed, and Watanuki resolved to tackle the rest of the problems they faced later, because he was devoting the next few hours to discovering the aforementioned perks.

He got back to kissing Doumeki.

_The moment we decided to let love in_

(Because love is powerful, but it is never perfect.)


	9. Wouldn't Change A Thing

Lyrics are from Lifehouse's Spin. Enjoy!

**Wouldn't Change A Thing**

Doumeki paused before Yuuko's gate, wary of affectionate good–byes in her range of vision. _Although most things are in her line of sight,_ he thought as he tugged Watanuki's hand. _We're no exception._ Watanuki turned to face him, glancing to take stock of the passersby – which were few – before Doumeki leaned in and gave him a kiss so quick he couldn't respond.

Watanuki dropped his hand, scanned the vicinity for watchers again, and smiled. _Definitely going to need to work on this._ Doumeki's mind flashed to the argument earlier; he'd been so close to walking out and never dealing with any of it again, over a thoughtless comment. The memory made him feel guilty and angry all at once.

Instead, he gave Watanuki another kiss, one meant to say, _I can't wait to see you later,_ but the shorter boy wrapped his slender fingers around the back of his neck to keep him close. It lasted long enough that Doumeki had to catch a breath when he finally let go. "I will never get tired of that," Watanuki sighed. Doumeki took it for encouragement and bent his face again, but Watanuki pulled his arms away and almost made him panic again.

He glanced behind him, toward the shop. "I'm late." Doumeki shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them off Watanuki. _He has to go to work eventually._ It was strange; he was so used to spending nearly all his time with him unless he was working – where he was safe – that it was only just dawning on him how much longer those hours would drag on.

"You'll be here at four, right?" Watanuki asked, standing close but not touching. His gaze shifted to one side like it did when he wanted something he wasn't sure of.

Doumeki ducked his head to catch his eyes. "Of course." And there was that smile again, tentative but definitely there, and it was just enough to make Doumeki feel solid again. It took three more minutes before Watanuki disappeared inside the gate. Doumeki wandered back to the temple in a haze, disoriented by lack of sleep and hours of emotional intensity. He'd be burned out in weeks if he kept this up.

Eventually, he grabbed his bow to practice archery, needing to focus on something that wasn't loud, contradictory, and suddenly the most vital thing to his existence.

_Well I'd rather chase your shadow all my life  
Than be afraid of my own  
I'd rather be with you_

Yuuko's smile was overly bright when Watanuki entered the shop, something he'd hoped not to see but expected anyway. "You look tired," she said, mock–concerned. "Did you get enough rest?"

At the mention of sleep, he couldn't help yawning – one of her magic tricks, undoubtedly – but smiled when he remembered what he'd been doing instead. Kissing Doumeki. Warm hands burning against his shoulder blades. Jaw cradled between palms. _Kissing Shizuka._ The smile became an unwitting grin.

"Oh ho!" Yuuko laughed as she followed him to the kitchen doorway. "Spend your hours committing debauchery?"

"I… I…" Watanuki sputtered, slamming the lid on the teapot with a _clink_. "I was not doing… that!" He turned, vaguely aware he couldn't bring himself to put a word to what he was doing. Yuuko was watching him, devious and mocking and slightly concerned underneath it all. Oh hell, she probably knew anyway. She could transport people across worlds, she could definitely figure out afterglow. "I just kissed him." She stayed silent. "A lot." He added, and her nod reminded him too much of Doumeki, infuriatingly calm and humoring him. "Not that whatever I do outside of your slave–shop is any of your business!"

Her concern vanished, replaced with smug, smug glee. "Well, then I guess I don't need to lecture you on the importance of using protection."

Watanuki dropped a spoon, his face beginning to burn. He was not having this conversation with Yuuko. He _was not_. "Yuuko!" He wailed, unable to come up with something more articulate.

"Hurry with my breakfast, Watanuki," she said as she slid the door shut. He could hear Maru and Moro follow her down the hallway chanting, "Use protection! Watanuki should use protection!"

Yuuko would be the death of him long before Doumeki was, for certain. Considering Doumeki had saved his life multiple times, it was probably a moot comparison anyway. He'd never seen anything so hell–bent as Doumeki marching across the courtyard that morning, like it was the most difficult task he'd ever faced.

He stifled a yawn before bringing breakfast in to Yuuko, not wanting any more comments. But she was quiet, staring off into air again, as he served her tea. "Yuuko–san," he started, but caught himself. This was too much like the night after the meteor shower, stuck with a question he had no one to ask. "Have I done the right thing?"

She turned to look at him then. "Do you believe you've chosen the right path?"

Rumors at school. Something else Yuuko would tease him endlessly for. Himawari, too – how would she react? He wouldn't be able to stand making her feel unwelcome. She was lonely enough already. Plus he couldn't pretend Doumeki didn't matter anymore. It had been enough of a slip to admit they were friends but… oh, god, dating? How was he supposed to avoid the guilt now?

Still. _Shizuka_. Pinning him by the stairwell. Kissing him blind. Promising to be his friend.

"I think so." he said carefully.

She smiled at him, so guileless it had to be a trick. "Then for you, it's all right."

"But it's not right for Doumeki?" Watanuki said, panicking slightly.

Yuuko shook her head. "Doumeki's path will decide for itself."

Watanuki stared at her for a moment, disgusted with her obscure answer. "I'm going to dust," he said as he got to his feet. He had better things to do. Like daydream of four o'clock.

_I'd rather not know where I'll be  
Than be alone and convinced that I know_

Doumeki was outside the gate at three–forty–five; Watanuki showed up minutes later, like he'd been waiting. One quick kiss and they were hand–in–hand again, down the street toward Watanuki's tiny, cramped, and blessedly private apartment.

"Did she give you a hard time?" Doumeki asked a minute later, already knowing the answer. She would know, she would harass him properly, and she extracted payment for leaving early – but she had let him leave all the same, Yuuko's quirky little gifts.

Watanuki's face settled into a familiar scowl that made Doumeki want to smile. But he didn't want to seem patronizing, not when much better things held fast potential. "Of course she did," Watanuki spat before his face flushed. Watanuki's mouth twisted further as he said primly, "And she was filled with all sorts of unwelcome suggestions."

Doumeki couldn't help picturing Yuuko pointing out all her favorite scenes from her stash of manga, each one more ridiculous than the last. Watanuki gave an ungracious snort and snarled something like, "What are you smirking at?" But he didn't pull away – he leaned in, a solid, tangible pressure from shoulder to hip, and it felt so wonderful Doumeki's smile slipped.

"What?" Watanuki faltered, halting their progress, that tiny furrow forming between his brows. "Is something wrong?"

Doumeki shook his head, letting the warmth funnel all the way through his core. Nothing in life prepared him for this, not archery, not hours in the rain or sacrificed body matter. None of the stories his grandfather shared could have possibly made him understand until this morning how consuming and astonishing loving Watanuki was. _Loving_. Yes, Doumeki realized, he'd loved Kimihiro so long in so many ways it was impossible to pretend it wasn't true. But it wasn't time to share; he wanted to keep it for himself a little while longer, to grow into the thought more, before it became so obvious that even Watanuki's densest denial couldn't outshine it.

"Nothing," Doumeki told him, walking forward again. "Just thinking about what I'd like for dinner."

"Which _I'll_ be cooking," Watanuki grumbled.

"But not the dishes," Doumeki reminded him. "I can handle those."

"Not for much longer," Watanuki shot back, giving him a look that once would have been vicious but was flirtatious now. "I only have two bowls left."

"Perfect."

Watanuki rolled his eyes.

_Everything I know has let me down  
So I will just let go  
Let you turn me inside out_

Making lunch two mornings later, Watanuki discovered proof that Doumeki Shizuka would never make any sense at all.

There was a love note pinned to the fridge.

Or at least Watanuki assumed it was a love note. He lifted the magnet from it, cradling it carefully between hastily dried fingers. Written in Doumeki's tiny, slanted kanji was simply _Kimihiro_, no salutation, no clarification. It was so strange seeing his name written in someone else's hand; unexpectedly intimate, like a hand casually draped around his waist in a crowded market. Watanuki carried it to the table, folding his legs underneath him. The oil still had a few minutes to heat – surely he had enough time to read whatever Doumeki thought was so important to say it couldn't wait until they saw each other.

Who'd have thought the guy who couldn't fit his name better – static, unfathomable bastard – would have the thought to pen something and stick it to his boyfriend's fridge? It occurred to Watanuki it might be a food request, but he was so fascinated by the existence of it in the first place that he didn't feel any indignation. Not when seeing his name written with such care.

He'd never gotten a love letter before.

Inside, it stated his name again, then, so briefly: _Lunch on the roof today. So I can soak up enough of you to survive the rest of it_. It was signed with a concise _Shizuka_.

If it was possible to expire of romantic shock, Watanuki would be a dead man. He reread it three times, alternating between blushing at the thought of what exactly Doumeki meant by "soaking up enough" of him on the _school roof_ and sputtering at the blithe way he assumed he'd get what he wanted. Just like always.

_Except the difference is_, Watanuki thought, _he wants_ me _now_. He couldn't let it be so easy. Doumeki needed to protect his reputation – his grades were good enough, or at least they had been before he'd taken to spending his nights rescuing Watanuki instead of studying – because colleges would really come scrambling because of his archery. If he let himself slip even more, or if one of the coaches got the wrong idea or held the wrong opinion, his entire future could come to a crashing halt.

Not that Doumeki cared; that much was obvious. He'd been so upset by the idea of hiding anything at all – it was still unnerving to think they _had_ a relationship; Doumeki was his _boyfriend_ – that a few people spreading rumors would hardly derail his determination. Watanuki knew from experience that it was nearly impossible.

He returned to the kitchen to finish preparing lunch, the note tucked carefully into a pocket. He'd already determined he would carry it with him all day; it was just a matter of being discreet enough when reading it to hide the rush of pleasure it brought. Hiding what he was felt at school would be a much bigger challenge than it seemed the night he'd offered the compromise. Nothing was ever easy with Shizuka, and Watanuki was beginning to suspect he liked it that way.

_'cause I know I'm not sure about anything  
but you wouldn't have it any other way_

Doumeki was still sweeping the courtyard when Watanuki came through the temple arch. Instead of finding a broom so the other boy could join in the chores, he leaned his own against a tree.

He was greeted with an enthusiastic kiss. "Thank you for the note."

"You're welcome," Doumeki answered absently, distracted but wondering why leaving a note about where to meet for lunch garnered thanks like that. Of course, with Watanuki here in front of him, it seemed impossible to go all that time without the closeness he'd become accustomed to already. Especially if he was supposed to pretend he didn't feel that way at all. "Come here," he said, tugging Watanuki's arm toward his grandfather's library.

Twenty minutes later, Doumeki slipped inside the temple to change into his uniform, out of breath and his hair considerably messier than before. Maybe make–out sessions before school were a bad idea. They only made it worse. He'd been lying to himself when he thought he could level out that sort of emotion.

And so it hurt like hell when Watanuki pulled his hand from Doumeki's grip when they got close enough to meet other students. Doumeki glanced at him as he tucked his now–free hand into a pocket; Watanuki was staring straight ahead, and he looked relieved when Himawari dashed up from her side street.

"Good morning!" she beamed at them.

"Himawari–chan!" Watanuki exclaimed back. "How was your weekend?"

Doumeki lost track of their conversation as he fought back jealousy. He didn't blame Himawari; the girl needed friends, especially ones who understood the risk. No, she'd been nothing but helpful and encouraging since they formed this bizarre little trio. More than once she'd served to keep them together, reminding Watanuki that friendship took many forms and that none of them should be taken for granted. Not even the argument–riddled ones.

When they parted at the classroom door, she gave Doumeki a concerned glance; he hadn't said a damned thing the whole walk, but he didn't think it was unusual of him. Of course Himawari would notice the difference – and slip inside the classroom to give them a few minutes' privacy in the emptying hallway.

"I'll see you on the roof, then?" Watanuki asked, giving him an anxious smile.

Doumeki nodded, paused, and then turned to walk away, ignoring the cluster of girls whispering across from them. Hurt flashed across Watanuki's features as he turned for the doorknob. But wasn't this how he'd wanted it, far more complicated than it needed to be?

Doumeki breathed back the miserable anger that followed the thought. _I can't spend the whole day sullen over this. Got to get over it by lunch_, he told himself as he settled at his desk. He recalled Watanuki's smile, the feel of his cheekbones under his thumbs, the agreement they'd made a few nights ago. _This is worth it, it's got to be worth it_. He couldn't live without Watanuki, he could barely survive with him, and he couldn't see how it could be any other way. His life was in constant juxtaposition with Watanuki's; the safest course was also the one most fraught with difficulties.

Once again, Doumeki found himself staring at the clock waiting for lunch, since it seemed he owed Watanuki an apology.

_And the world keeps spinning round  
And my world's upside down  
And I wouldn't change a thing_

The bell rang for lunch, and Watanuki's stomach twisted in time with it. Himawari bounced up beside him, store–bought bento in her hand. He felt a flash of guilt – she must've realized something was going on – before she asked, "Meeting Doumeki–kun for lunch?"

Watanuki swallowed against the lump in his throat. He'd get an ulcer if things kept on this way. "Yeah."

She leaned closer, her pretty face worried. "Are you okay? Did you…" she hesitated. "Is he mad at you again?" Her gaze flickered to his golden eye.

_Yes. No. I would be_. How to explain it to her? "Some… stuff happened over the weekend." He tried to give her a smile, hoping to soften the implications of his next words. "We still need to work it out."

She nodded sagely. "Have you asked Yuuko–san for advice? She's so good with things like that."

He resisted the urge to shout, _she definitely is not!_ before he realized Himawari thought it was trouble of the standard kind, the occult and mystical kind. This time he managed to give her a tight smile. "We'll be fine, but thanks." He headed up toward the roof.

Maybe Doumeki needed more space. They'd spent nearly a solid week together; he hadn't practiced archery all weekend, let alone time to meditate. Plus Watanuki had interrupted his chores that morning. He couldn't help it, though. After the note, he'd wanted to see Doumeki so badly he had even been sloppy putting together the bento. Now he had slipshod food as a peace offering. Great.

Outside the access door to the roof, he set down the bento to reach inside a pocket and pull out the now–crumpled note. He read it twice. Doumeki wasn't petty. He wouldn't dissolve something they'd been building over two years over a disagreement. Even if it was the disagreement to end all disagreements._I wouldn't blame him at all._ He gathered his courage and opened the door, stepping out onto the roof.

Doumeki was leaning against the fence, watching the door, lean and deliberate. Watanuki's heart did a backflip as he approached under his intense gaze. When he was a foot or two away, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Doumeki stared at him intently a moment longer, took the bento from his hand, set it on the ground, and crushed Watanuki to his chest.

He wrapped arms around Doumeki's ribcage, so grateful he couldn't think. "I didn't realize it would be that hard on you."

Doumeki laughed bitterly, his breath puffing against Watanuki's ear. "Here I was wondering how to phrase my own apology." He pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Comparatively, it's not that hard. Just different." He leaned forward to kiss Watanuki on the forehead, right above the bridge of his glasses. "It's what you want. I'll get used to it."

_Because I'm the needy one, right?_ Watanuki shook his head, sitting down and unwrapping the bento. "I don't want you to have to get used to it. I want you to be happy, too." He snagged Doumeki's hand as he sank beside him, trying to convey how earnest he was. "I promised we were in this together."

Doumeki gave him a measured look that he couldn't begin to grasp. "As long as you're safe, I'm happy," he said, making Watanuki think, _How long have you been telling yourself that lie?_ "What's for lunch? Do you have eggs today?"

"You are so high–maintenance," Watanuki fussed. Doumeki gave him an uplifted eyebrow, and he swallowed the rest of his complaint. "Yes, there are eggs."

_Well I've got nothing else to lose  
I lost it all when I found you  
And I wouldn't change a thing_

As the access door slammed shut behind them, Doumeki ran his hands through his hair to smooth it out. He considered growing it a little bit longer, like Watanuki's, so it wouldn't stick up so noticeably. If those roof lunches became a regular thing, it wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Tomorrow, too?" Watanuki asked, clattering down the steps ahead of him.

"Yes." Doumeki answered.

"Are you coming over tonight?"

"Yes."

Watanuki stopped at the bottom so they could walk side–by–side. "You can stay home to practice, if you need to."

Doumeki shook his head. "Don't have a meet for a while. And I've got practice after school tomorrow. So I'd rather spend tonight with you."

"Okay," Watanuki said, a flush crossing his cheeks. "See you after class."

"Yeah," Doumeki said, noticing how a knot of girls grew silent as they approached, headed by a glowering bleach–blonde from his class. She was watching Watanuki as if he was the devil. "See you."

Watanuki disappeared inside and Doumeki gave the girl a deliberate look, turning back to see Himawari wave through the window on the door. Watanuki's eyes followed the direction, and he smiled so brilliantly it was like looking at the face of the sun.

_I hope this never wears off,_ Doumeki thought as he shook off the stun, bell clanging in the background.

_No, you and I wouldn't change a thing_

Himawari stood next to him at the gate, chattering about their next quiz, but Watanuki hardly heard a word. Doumeki had come out the front doors, striding across the lawn. His eyes were glued to Watanuki, unaware how conversations stopped as he walked past. Girls stared with wide eyes. Boys surveyed him, and then straightened their posture to mimic him. The whole campus took a collective, admiring breath and let it out on a sigh as they saw the misfits he was approaching. _What a shame,_ Watanuki could almost hear them say. Doumeki was the most anti–social popular person in the school. _And he wants me_, Watanuki reminded himself with pleasure. _So it doesn't matter._ If only their whole dilemma was that simple.

Doumeki greeted Himawari, but his eyes were still on Watanuki. He turned away, trying to pick up the thread of Himawari's banter, trying to hear past the pulse in his ears. The three of them stepped out onto the street, finally headed home.

_Spinning, turning, watching, burning  
All my life has found its meaning_

Doumeki knew he had to curb this fever eventually. He still had archery, he still had to take care of the temple. His life had been cramped enough without Watanuki as his boyfriend. But he'd come to learn that any situation involving the slighter boy was bound to make him lose his head a little. Ironic that he'd come to rely on the uncertainty.

So he gave Watanuki a fierce kiss goodbye and turned from his front door. "I'll be back," he told him. "Soon."

Watanuki nodded, slightly disappointed but resigned to it. "Okay."

Doumeki bounded down the stairs, out onto the street, and jogged home. He enjoyed the exercise, letting out some of the pent–up steam out. He finished up his chores, changed his clothes, kissed his grandmother on the cheek, and was out the door again.

Anything to be back with Watanuki.

_Walking, crawling, climbing, falling  
All my life has found its meaning_

Doumeki came in the door without knocking, kicking off his shoes with an audible clatter and coming straight to the kitchen. He glanced around, taking stock of the pots and measuring spoons. "Can't you ever order take–out?" he complained. "I can't kiss you while I'm doing dishes."

Watanuki was surprised into a laugh. And he had once believed all Doumeki thought about was food. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he said as he turned.

"Not really," Doumeki grumbled, pulling Watanuki against him. He stopped to savor the feeling of Doumeki's warm palm kneading the back of his neck before pulling away.

"We need to get out of my apartment more," he told him.

Doumeki eyed him. "I don't see why."

Of course he didn't. He'd be content to sit inside all day and never interact with anyone else. "You are so simple sometimes."

He received another look. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Watanuki laughed again. It got easier and easier every time. "Please do."

Doumeki abandoned the pot he was investigating and came up behind him, putting his hands on Watanuki's hips, burying his face in his hair. "Have I ever told you how charming you are in an apron?"

"Did you have this kitchen fetish before I met you?" Watanuki countered.

"Nope. You made me appreciate good food." Doumeki responded, sliding his hands across Watanuki's stomach. "Are you done cooking yet?"

Watanuki resisted the urge to smack him with a spatula. "Pervert."

"Hm." Doumeki nudged the spot right behind Watanuki's ear with the tip of his nose, breath tickling.

"Then again," Watanuki speculated aloud, "I might be developing a kitchen fetish of my own." Fire spread from Doumeki's hands, licking from the nape of his neck to his knees. He could feel Doumeki smile against his hair.

_Tomorrow,_ Watanuki thought, _will be one more hurdle, one more decision between pride and the best thing that's ever happened to me. But that's tomorrow. And this is tonight._

Doumeki's hands stilled around his waist. The voice he felt against his neck was concerned. "Kimihiro?"

Watanuki turned to face him again. Doumeki's eyes were molten gold, the color of the sun that Watanuki's life was starting to revolve around. He lifted a hand to his cheek, amazed at how Doumeki leaned into it and the heat that always clung to his skin. "Just remembering," Watanuki told him, "how glad I am to be in this with you."

Doumeki's eyes widened just a little, surprised, but he smiled. And that was all Watanuki cared about.

_No, you and I wouldn't change a thing_

(Because love is as complicated as it is satisfying.)


End file.
